A Smiling Epitaph - Chris Robinson Brotherhood

Red-eyed angry angels

Never need a reason why

Beware the hounds, beware the mire

Beware the red-eyed angel’s fire

Hear them singing a black chorus

Heard them laughing while you cry

Beware the bells toll evening

Beware of what you left behind

Wise is the child who knows all is changing

Gone are the clouds when her birds start singing

And where she walks it will rain

And wash their worlds away

And in their place, a living grace

Will forever stay

Inner doors, outer rooms

Slither scales, flying plumes

Salt and iron filigree

On the masks of those not free

Feel the sinking

Hear the sound

Of the people below the down

And choke on money

And spit the seeds

Then find purchase in filigree