Broken Down

Pasta machine broke down by the weed in the field I get so nice when I see Angel's face I will sip the wine of all the tears you cry Feel for me sympathy, the kind that we all need Crimson handed fiend of hate strokes, the soul of all Saints cannot flee the strength of the call We just carry on as if we know all that is wrong Feel for me sympathy, the kind that we all need Placid perspective straight, losing hope postponing fate Synchronize, incarcerate, let them eat, I can hate So, I can say nothing new despite the doves that flew Feel for me sympathy, the kind that we all need Crimson handed fiend of hate strokes, the soul of all Saints cannot flee the strength of the call We just carry on as if we know all that is wrong Feel for me sympathy, the kind that we all need