Paroles de Mute

Porcupine Tree

pochette album Mute
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The mutes lie choking in the green fields of england - my england
Scorched in their own inheritance,
Burning in a hand-me-down hiroshima,
A man-made prison called "progress".
And who's going to profit

When the dawn breaks grey,
When the railways are deader than the people,
And when the watch has stopped for good?

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