Saint Monday

Angels regarding discarded penance
Can’t be re bought for trinkets unrigged
Ageless eyes glance certainty enchant dominion
Trapped in silent engage less old strange
Who’s are these trees and why is this melton
Fenced from broken old linen to town
Who is this warehouse for nobody knows
All the machineries are broken down
Sand paper rust oil in the lines
Waiting to fire us back to the good times
Playing our tunes on a broken guitar
Trying to bring down the fire from the stars