Chelsea Wolfe
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Little Grave

Chelsea Wolfe

Birth Of Violence


When I was a little one
I'd follow you into the sun
I held your hand
You held me then
I went outside
You never saw me again

Sunrise
Sunset
Sunrise
Sunset

Touch not ye my little grave
For mama is now far away
They lay me there
And there I lay
You can't fight guns with guns - we'll all perish that way

Sunrise
Sunrise
Sunrise
Sunset

And the blue dreams keep on calling me

Sunrise
Sunrise
Sunrise
Sunset

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