Lyrics:

Pasta machine broke down

By the weed in the field

I get so nice when I see angels face

I will sip the wine of all the tears you cry

Feel for me sympathy

The kind that we all need


Crimson handed fiend

Of hate strokes the soul of all

Saints cannot flee

The strength of the call

We just carry on

As if we know all that is wrong

Feel for me sympathy

The kind that we all need


Placid perspective straight

Losing hope postponing fate

Synchronise incarcerate

Let them eat I can hate

I can say nothing new

Despite the doves that flew

Feel for me sympathy

The kind we all need


Crimson handed fiend

Of hate strokes the soul of all

Saints cannot flee

The strength of the call

We just carry on

As if we know all that is wrong

Feel for me sympathy

The kind that we all need