David Keenan - Don’t Speak iIl of the Dead lyrics

Wielding words like butchers knives into
The room I held you
Though you patronised and spoke ill
Of the dead in my arms the tundra thawed the
Table rocked a generation
Was reborn a well earned
Rest the mocking ceased

What became of baby ray when
The father fired his shots
Was it for fame and money
That a lineage was lost
Where are you returning to the
Sweet spot of the day
It takes more than just hopeful
Notions to love without delay

Retreating like an argument into a
Shell our misinterpretations cast
Out for words are spells dissolving ill timed
Ego trips we fuelled the flood I hoped it


Would remove your hood the settling suds

What became of baby ray when
The father fired his shots
Was it for fame and money
That a lineage was lost
What was it that dropped them to
A place of no reprieve
Was it for lack of trying
That their bond became diseased
Where are you returning to the
Sweet spot of the day
It takes more than just hopeful notions
For us not to be afraid
It takes more than just hopeful
Notions to love without delay