Lance
Bill PRITCHARD
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Lance's tongue is sick so the fish sing to mock his blathering the swish of his strainer the strike of his chisel fleshed fish, dried fish nudge the pressure crack fold a mausoleum on his arthritic back The congregation hovers as his old god rests Lord let the bell ring the ministry is ill it's the lustre of the cross lord let the bell ring knaves burn aisles burn snow melts into moss Warped christ chipped christ let their income wane counterfeit collection plates cast and catch the same wind burn ice burn, drop his line to hell the ministry is ill, the ministry's unwell a congregation wonders as his long reach numbs Lord let the bell ring the ministry is ill the lustre of the cross Lord let the bell ring knaves burn aisles burn snow melts into moss
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Written by: Bill Pritchard, Patrick Woodcock
Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Lance Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 7 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/11003348/Bill+PRITCHARD/Lance>.
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