Petals by Ymot

What is it you wanted,
What is it you're dreaming?
There's no such thing as feelings,
Though why do we plant seedlings?

Cut into the brambles:
Tore my clothes, I'm sad now.
Took a tour around it;
'Clay soil, yeah I found it.'

Of Faerwy, I'm the founder;
Bet you wish you wrote it.

Think I sold my soul, yeah;
To whom I couldn't tell you.
I'm the monster in the attic
With the demons causing panic.

Grow the flowers, pick the petals.
Making apple cider.
Sell it to the people
Beneath the rising steeple.

• Celtic
• Electronic
• Electronica
• gothic
• lullaby
• shoegaze
• soundtrack
• trance
• Cardiff