John Coffey The Well song lyrics

Our hands try to draw what is nothing but divine

But our stroke is a part of the Venetian line

What was taken for style could well be a mistake

Or nothing but a flaw of the guilty hand

I'm nothing but a dead man now,

just a body laying at the bottom of a well

Was inside in such a way,

the universe now feels like being indoors

Our hands try to draw what is nothing but divine

But our stroke is a part of the Venetian line

What was taken for style could well be a mistake

Or nothing but a flaw of the guilty hand

I'm nothing but a dead man now,

just a body laying at the bottom of a well

Believe me please, believe me now, I'm coming forth

But the fist of a murderer leaves nothing to chance

I was inside in such a way,

the universe now feels like being indoors

But the fist of my murderer leaves me nothing to chance

I'm nothing but a dead man now,

just a body laying at the bottom of a well

Believe me please, believe me now, I'm coming forth

But the fist of a murderer leaves nothing to chance

Our hands try to draw what is nothing but divine

But our stroke is a part of the Venetian line

What was taken for style could well be a mistake

Or nothing but a flaw of the guilty hand