"Cradle Burns" as written by and Ken Griffin Gerald Griffin....
It's alright, it's just the cradle burns
Racing to the corners of your mind that hate the world
Burn the dress and hang it in the tree
Count the birds that see the shine of hope without disease

I am the son of a mother and a man
But the monkey is wheezing like a whipped old man
The clowns are off feeding the fat to the flow
Here come the servants to shovel bones

Right upon the wake the cradle burns
Return with hands of terror to rub my feet together
It's alright psychology of blame
Has one cheek, an eye for any eye, and leaps of faith to tame

I am the son of a mother and a man
But the monkey is wheezing like a whipped old man
The clowns are off feeding the fat to the flow
And here come the servants to shovel bones

Funny funny funny how the well gets water when the fever flows
And by the charge of chance we can race the dance to Babylon
Funny funny funny how the well gets water when the fever flows
And by the charge of chance we can race the dance to Babylon

Every day a rat falls from the sky
To chase the snow around the room and tell you you're for flies
Every day a cradle burn will fall
If you drown all the days you wasted your hands on a whip without a spine

I am the son of a mother and a man
And the horsedrawn wishes have been sent on their way
Down a hole where the cradle burns go
Here come the servants to shovel bones

Funny funny funny how the well gets water when the fever flows
And by the charge of chance we can race the dance to Babylon
Funny funny funny how the well gets water when the fever flows
And by the charge of chance we can race the dance to Babylon


Lyrics submitted by iceblink-luck

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