Build a wall,
if you must.
All your lies,
they gather dust.
All your schemes run
my land dry,
my sky turns grey,
the clouds all cry.
Your whispers crawl
through every brick
saying your kind smile's m
a burning trick.
Build a wall,
if you must.
All your lies,
they gather dust.
All your schemes run
my land dry,
my sky turns grey,
the clouds all cry.
Your whispers crawl
through every brick
saying your kind smile's m
a burning trick.