Walk away on London's bitter pride
In melancholic isolation
Force-feed yourself, sentimentality
With golden age mythology
The feudal lords are ruthless no more
But in the night, the raven calls
False memories, fake history
Next you'll talk of racial purity
Where the nightingale sings
The knights around all cleave close
You were abiding
Well your name is not
Always one, simple relations
Walk away from from anonymity
The feudal lords are ruthless no more
But in the night, the raven calls
False memories, fake history
False memories
Fake history
Next you'll talk of racial purity
Where the nightingale sings
The knights around all cleave close
You were abiding
Well your name is not
When the nightingale sings
The knights around all cleave close
You were abiding
Well your name is not
When the nightingale sings
The knights around all cleave close
You were abiding
Well your name is not
