Текст песни
Frother is the cold froth forming on the dead mans brow
It is the dew of death, thats what Frother is
The father is flying over the writing desk
But dont think hes a spirit
I saw, as youd have it, a rose,
This tedious petal of earth
The flower apparently was
Thinking its last thoughts.
It caressed the neighboring mountains
With the terminal breath of its soul
Princesses floated and stars
Above in the heavenly pall
As my sons went away
And my horse like a wave
Stood and clacked its hoof,
The moon yellowed nearby
O flower convinced of delight
The godly hour is at hand
The world comes to like the dawn
And I have gone out like a light
The father stops speaking in verse
He takes a puff on a candle,
holding it in his teeth like a flute while sinking pillow
like into the armchair
The first son enters and says
And he hasnt even answered our question
Therefore he now turns to the pillow with a question
Pillow pillow
Tell us rather
What is this thing called Frother
