Crown of Thorns - Erasure

Fire of the sun

Flowers crumble into dust

The seed shall scatter and die

Light in her eyes

Pours black on their lives

We gather round a funeral pyre

And here we stand

In old England’s land

Shattered glass on the ground

There are no words

To console this earth

To restore old England’s pride

Never in a million or so years

Did we suffer so much bloodshed

Here comes the man

With the warm and gentle hands

Her name burned into his brow

Scorn in her eyes

Her back to the cries

We spit upon the life

That never was

And here we stand

In old England’s land

The rose is choked by it’s thorn

She will cast salt for your wound

Old England wears no crown

Never in a million or so years

Did we suffer so much bloodshed

We didn’t want to hurt you

But it’s not over yet

No never in a million or so years

Did we suffer so much bloodshed