Ralfe Band. Swords. Albatross Waltz. Zeneszám

Moon will rise, moon will fall. moon will rise and fall but no-one seems me crawl along your darkened hall. In your room amidst the gloom I can see geraniums are all in bloom while you sleep in the afternoon. Dogs will howl and as you sleep I lay a towel upon the body of the freak, who died in your arms last week. A huricane is on its way, I can see the apple trees begin to sway, while the nuns forgot to pray.

Above you now the albatross is sighing, the kings they are all dying cause there's no one to anoint them and the swords are all broken, broken in two.