This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the kingdom?
Have you been born yet and are you alive?
Let's reinvent the Gods, all the myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war?
We need great golden copulations
Fathers are cackling in trees of the forest
Our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals
And the fats slow generals are getting obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by TV?
The moon is dry blood beast
Guerrilla bands are rolling numbers
In the next block of green vine
Amassing for warfare on
Innocent herdsman who are just dying
Oh, great creator of being grant us one more hour
To perform our art and perfect our lives
Moths and atheists are doubly divine and dying
We live, we die, and death not ends it
Journey we more into the nightmare
Cling to life, our passioned flower
Cling to cunts and cocks of despair
We got our final vision by clap
Columbus's groin got filled with green death
I touched her thigh and death smiled
We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life
And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept and only one of all the rest
To dance and save us with the divine mockery of words
Music inflames temperament
When the true King's murderers are allowed to roam free
A thousand magicians arise in the land
Where are the feasts were promised?
Where is the wine?
The new wine, dying on the vine
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the kingdom?
Have you been born yet and are you alive?
Let's reinvent the Gods, all the myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war?
We need great golden copulations
Fathers are cackling in trees of the forest
Our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals
And the fats slow generals are getting obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by TV?
The moon is dry blood beast
Guerrilla bands are rolling numbers
In the next block of green vine
Amassing for warfare on
Innocent herdsman who are just dying
Oh, great creator of being grant us one more hour
To perform our art and perfect our lives
Moths and atheists are doubly divine and dying
We live, we die, and death not ends it
Journey we more into the nightmare
Cling to life, our passioned flower
Cling to cunts and cocks of despair
We got our final vision by clap
Columbus's groin got filled with green death
I touched her thigh and death smiled
We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life
And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept and only one of all the rest
To dance and save us with the divine mockery of words
Music inflames temperament
When the true King's murderers are allowed to roam free
A thousand magicians arise in the land
Where are the feasts were promised?
Where is the wine?
The new wine, dying on the vine
Lyrics submitted by yuri_sucupira
An American Prayer Lyrics as written by John Paul Densmore Jim Morrison
Lyrics © Doors Music Company
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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