Текст песни Chris Cornell - Pillow of Your Bones
Chris Cornell - Pillow of Your Bones слова песни
The embers of the saint inside of youAre growing as Im bathing in your glowIm swallowing the poison of your flowerAnd hanging on the rising of my lowColorful and falling from your mouthLike a painted fever in recoilLike a lie without the painOn a pillow of your bonesI will lay across the stonesOf your shore until the tide comes crawling backA waning hand on silver granite waysWill mend my broken limbs and bend my hazeIm sleeping in the silence of your voiceIm cradling the peril of my only choiceColorful and falling from your mouthLike a painted fever in recoilLike a lie without the painOn a pillow of your bonesI will lay across the stoneOf your shore until the tide comes crawling backThrow my pillow on the fireMake my bed under the eyeOf your moon until the tide comes crawling backEven though the truth can burn inside or fall behindI will wander through your open mindAnd you will find no lie can hideUntil the tide comes crawling