A carnival, a flesh farewell
Heissens rising from the, from the dead
"Wyman-Elvis," calls our gurrel
And counts the ash to where to where he bled
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight"
At the first a crimson mist
At the second sleeplessness
At the third a broken tryst
At the fourth, lonesomeness
Gawly the sweethearts leaves
The soldier's tears
The Riddle river grieves
"Wyman-Elvis disappears"
Only in a scrid of flesh
Hooked upon the hart's-tongue fern
Only by her own gooseflesh
Knows she somewhen he'll return
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
