The Plains Of San Augustin by Minsk Lyrics
Head bowed irreverently with the cold blade resting on my neck
Quiet time, tow the line, a time and place for everything
"There is a season," "a time to die,"
And the word games end as the clock thunders by, and the rain sears this pain as my streams keep running dry
Quiet time, tow the line, a time and place for everything
"There is a season," "a time to die,"
And the word games end as the clock thunders by, and the rain sears this pain as my streams keep running dry