Wilde Lager-Rome

Rome wilde lager we're clubbing traitors in green summer fields reality is changing colour all the nation's sad sweetness is flowing from their eyes and kneaded into time the sun in our eyes and the rain on our boots as black as our gift to the world in this warm bath of black blood we would give our skin for a beautiful drum we're chasing traitors through green summer fields all the way back across the waters and we would do just about anything just to translate this void into substance wanting to daub time over with thick colours in this sultry heat this stifling fever heat we are tender young gods love and despair locked in an embrace two wilted flowers black and green love and despair locked in an embrace truth changed its smell as it aged in the sweat of the august days in the summer of surrender