CROWN OF THORNS (by V.Clarke & A.Bell 1989)
Fire of the sun Flowers crumble into dust The seed shall scatter and die Light in her eyes Pours black on their lives We gather around the funeral pyre
And here we stand In old England's land Shattered glass on the ground There are no words To console this earth To restore old England's pride
Never in a million or so years Did we suffer so much bloodshed
Here comes the man With the warm and gentle hands Her name burned into his brow Scorn in her eyes Her back to the cries We spit upon the life it never was
And here we stand in old England's land The rose is choked by its thorn She will cast salt for your wound Old England wears no crown
Never in a million or so years We didn't want to hurt you But it's not over yet