I've been reading patriotics
Turning my tongue, turning my tongue
Such a sick thing, clutching the strings
Over my life, over my life
Bury me in the churchyard
Severed at St. Agatha's
Between there and the homeland, I do not know
Bury me in the churchyard
Severed at St. Agatha's
Between there and the homeland, I do not know
And the roses spoil my garden
So I tread them like an infant child
Like an infant child, like an infant child
Like an infant child, like an ancient child
Bury me in the churchyard
Severed at St Agatha's
Between there and the homeland, I do not know
Bury me in the churchyard
Severed at St Agatha's
Between there and the homeland, I do not know
Bury me in the churchyard
Severed at St Agatha's
Between there and the homeland, I do not know
Tell me the way to the heart
Or hearse me to St Agatha's and grimacing fathers
Let me go
