The Wretched Mills
๐ต 1754 characters
โฑ๏ธ 8:48 duration
๐ ID: 11233954
๐ Lyrics
Petroleum rivers in their veins; they drink from the drains
Eat from the gutters
A generation shackled to cackling looms while fog
Chokes the infants in weary cradles and languid wombs
And they are told
In no uncertain terms
That God knows every man under the sun
But 'tis spiteful lunacy
Ye who have never beheld the sun
Who is to say you are under it
Like the frozen rooftop rip's the toes from pigeon's feet
So too the mule's on desperate hands a-stamping
Weaving fingers 'mongst textiles o'er this weary clock
Face, all digits in a circle, all hands in their place
It's been a long walk on these tattered souls, just to be slot
Odd cogs even-shaped holes
Grinding down and down like a tapeworm in the gut
The shifted of paradigms: sandstone, and white noise
Let these mainsprings rust!
There's lots to be thrown in
But into what Jeremiah"s pit do we shuffle, starved and sunken?
For as long as it keeps productivity on the rise
They'll do their utmost to grind down your particle size
Score by score, scar by scar
Seven veils for seven eagles of the ninth
Sold short, the clearance sale, the golden years
All spines are spires now
All blue-shifted and gifted with
Their own cubic metre of breathing space
Petroleum rivers in their veins
They drink from the drains
And eat from the gutters
A generation shackled to cackling looms while fog
Chokes the infants in weary cradles and languid wombs
All piers a'peering, appearing all sunlight on walnut
Barrel-chested and salt-invested
Gilded limpets on family trees
Out on a limb but not all at sea
Sombre oil wept from betwixt charcoal lips
Naught but lubricant for concrete lungs
And it'll take more than a golden city's glister to convince
That it's not just glass and paint and well-placed-mirrors
Eat from the gutters
A generation shackled to cackling looms while fog
Chokes the infants in weary cradles and languid wombs
And they are told
In no uncertain terms
That God knows every man under the sun
But 'tis spiteful lunacy
Ye who have never beheld the sun
Who is to say you are under it
Like the frozen rooftop rip's the toes from pigeon's feet
So too the mule's on desperate hands a-stamping
Weaving fingers 'mongst textiles o'er this weary clock
Face, all digits in a circle, all hands in their place
It's been a long walk on these tattered souls, just to be slot
Odd cogs even-shaped holes
Grinding down and down like a tapeworm in the gut
The shifted of paradigms: sandstone, and white noise
Let these mainsprings rust!
There's lots to be thrown in
But into what Jeremiah"s pit do we shuffle, starved and sunken?
For as long as it keeps productivity on the rise
They'll do their utmost to grind down your particle size
Score by score, scar by scar
Seven veils for seven eagles of the ninth
Sold short, the clearance sale, the golden years
All spines are spires now
All blue-shifted and gifted with
Their own cubic metre of breathing space
Petroleum rivers in their veins
They drink from the drains
And eat from the gutters
A generation shackled to cackling looms while fog
Chokes the infants in weary cradles and languid wombs
All piers a'peering, appearing all sunlight on walnut
Barrel-chested and salt-invested
Gilded limpets on family trees
Out on a limb but not all at sea
Sombre oil wept from betwixt charcoal lips
Naught but lubricant for concrete lungs
And it'll take more than a golden city's glister to convince
That it's not just glass and paint and well-placed-mirrors
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[01:24.70] Petroleum rivers in their veins; they drink from the drains
[01:32.07] Eat from the gutters
[01:36.05] A generation shackled to cackling looms while fog
[01:40.92] Chokes the infants in weary cradles and languid wombs
[01:48.20]
[02:12.50] And they are told
[02:15.85] In no uncertain terms
[02:23.61] That God knows every man under the sun
[02:35.87] But 'tis spiteful lunacy
[02:42.51] Ye who have never beheld the sun
[02:49.46] Who is to say you are under it
[02:55.66]
[04:39.18] Like the frozen rooftop rip's the toes from pigeon's feet
[04:43.79] So too the mule's on desperate hands a-stamping
[04:50.37] Weaving fingers 'mongst textiles o'er this weary clock
[04:55.60] Face, all digits in a circle, all hands in their place
[05:03.13] It's been a long walk on these tattered souls, just to be slot
[05:08.31] Odd cogs even-shaped holes
[05:13.51] Grinding down and down like a tapeworm in the gut
[05:17.38] The shifted of paradigms: sandstone, and white noise
[05:25.70] Let these mainsprings rust!
[05:27.55] There's lots to be thrown in
[05:29.35] But into what Jeremiah"s pit do we shuffle, starved and sunken?
[05:33.65] For as long as it keeps productivity on the rise
[05:36.55] They'll do their utmost to grind down your particle size
[05:40.48] Score by score, scar by scar
[05:42.82] Seven veils for seven eagles of the ninth
[05:45.42] Sold short, the clearance sale, the golden years
[05:51.23] All spines are spires now
[05:53.88] All blue-shifted and gifted with
[05:56.93] Their own cubic metre of breathing space
[06:00.30] Petroleum rivers in their veins
[06:03.62] They drink from the drains
[06:05.83] And eat from the gutters
[06:07.68] A generation shackled to cackling looms while fog
[06:11.27] Chokes the infants in weary cradles and languid wombs
[06:16.85] All piers a'peering, appearing all sunlight on walnut
[06:24.69] Barrel-chested and salt-invested
[06:30.73] Gilded limpets on family trees
[06:35.17] Out on a limb but not all at sea
[06:42.36] Sombre oil wept from betwixt charcoal lips
[06:47.45] Naught but lubricant for concrete lungs
[06:52.53] And it'll take more than a golden city's glister to convince
[06:59.35] That it's not just glass and paint and well-placed-mirrors
[07:15.44]
[01:32.07] Eat from the gutters
[01:36.05] A generation shackled to cackling looms while fog
[01:40.92] Chokes the infants in weary cradles and languid wombs
[01:48.20]
[02:12.50] And they are told
[02:15.85] In no uncertain terms
[02:23.61] That God knows every man under the sun
[02:35.87] But 'tis spiteful lunacy
[02:42.51] Ye who have never beheld the sun
[02:49.46] Who is to say you are under it
[02:55.66]
[04:39.18] Like the frozen rooftop rip's the toes from pigeon's feet
[04:43.79] So too the mule's on desperate hands a-stamping
[04:50.37] Weaving fingers 'mongst textiles o'er this weary clock
[04:55.60] Face, all digits in a circle, all hands in their place
[05:03.13] It's been a long walk on these tattered souls, just to be slot
[05:08.31] Odd cogs even-shaped holes
[05:13.51] Grinding down and down like a tapeworm in the gut
[05:17.38] The shifted of paradigms: sandstone, and white noise
[05:25.70] Let these mainsprings rust!
[05:27.55] There's lots to be thrown in
[05:29.35] But into what Jeremiah"s pit do we shuffle, starved and sunken?
[05:33.65] For as long as it keeps productivity on the rise
[05:36.55] They'll do their utmost to grind down your particle size
[05:40.48] Score by score, scar by scar
[05:42.82] Seven veils for seven eagles of the ninth
[05:45.42] Sold short, the clearance sale, the golden years
[05:51.23] All spines are spires now
[05:53.88] All blue-shifted and gifted with
[05:56.93] Their own cubic metre of breathing space
[06:00.30] Petroleum rivers in their veins
[06:03.62] They drink from the drains
[06:05.83] And eat from the gutters
[06:07.68] A generation shackled to cackling looms while fog
[06:11.27] Chokes the infants in weary cradles and languid wombs
[06:16.85] All piers a'peering, appearing all sunlight on walnut
[06:24.69] Barrel-chested and salt-invested
[06:30.73] Gilded limpets on family trees
[06:35.17] Out on a limb but not all at sea
[06:42.36] Sombre oil wept from betwixt charcoal lips
[06:47.45] Naught but lubricant for concrete lungs
[06:52.53] And it'll take more than a golden city's glister to convince
[06:59.35] That it's not just glass and paint and well-placed-mirrors
[07:15.44]