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de Fionn Regan

Lord help my poor soul
I'm down like Edgar Poe
Lord help my poor soul
I'm bound for Damascus

Rid those parasites, guttersnipe barbarous begrudgers click
With a stick, now they're feeling seasick
Wrestle from the bow that bends, the bow that breaks
The Judas tree

These garments are foreign rags, all gloomy
Not my own you see, when the curb came to me
There was no straw
In the upholstery

Lord help my poor soul
I'm down like Edgar Poe
Lord help my poor soul
I'm bound for Damascus

Meltdown some, white label's the best, no contest
Boot polish, Heads are turned up the vest
You know our life feels
To address a cheap holiday

We go rabble-rousing, carousing, drowsing, barbiturate
Moths at bay congregate, a little blue tit
Known to gather in
Grief's archway

Lord help my poor soul
I'm down like Edgar Poe
Lord help my poor soul
I'm bound for Damascus

Hold on, you don't have to suffer
Hold on, you don't feel any pain

Lord help my poor soul
I'm down like Edgar Poe
Lord help my poor soul
I'm bound for Damascus

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