🎵 Luyện Nghe Bài Hát: Insurgentes - Steven Wilson

 Holy Mother of the simple 
 When you smile at  you bring me down
 You  your thoughts.
 All  prayers too low.
 
 Now out of  you speak in tongues,
  out of bread, your work is done,
  your dream, absolve.
 And  path, dissolve.
 
 And  dream, absolve,
 And your path,