we're clubbing traitors in green summer fields 
reality is changing colour 
all the nation's sad sweetness 
is flowing from their eyes 
and kneaded into time 

the sun in our eyes and the rain on our boots 
as black as our gift to the world 
in this warm bath of black blood 
we would give our skin for a beautiful [bad word] 

we're chasing traitors through green summer fields 
all the way back across the waters 
and we would do just about anything 
just to translate this void into substance 

wanting to daub time over 
with thick colours 
in this sultry heat 
this stifling fever heat 
we are tender young gods 

love and despair locked in an embrace 
two wilted flowers black and green 
love and despair locked in an embrace  [bad word] changed its smell as it aged 
in the sweat of the august days 
in the summer of surrender