Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Don't Touch Dead Animals, artist - Kayo Dot. Album song Split, in the genre МеталDate of issue: 09.12.2006
Record label: Holy Roar
Song language: English
Don't Touch Dead Animals |
| Part one the song’s begun |
| Around and around the needle slinks |
| And with each passing bar |
| The circle shrinks |
| Round and round and round she goes |
| And if reversed the circle grows |
| A hazy regard tethers me to the redbrick hill |
| Where it’s always an early, misty grey |
| Whose eminence lay in the peas beyond the wall |
| And corralled its cloudy eye black to bleat |
| Some held out gusty day compelling me to give up |
| Constantly moving around buckets in a room |
| To catch blood only visible to the robin in grey |
| And blurred into the carpet by the stairs a rosy visionaire |
| Purposefully early came the ivy-gartered day |
| Sending to bed all the greater creatures and rousing every ruminant |
| See each low animal with a stomach on the wane |
| Each morning baby’s eight perfect toes and the eight things they represent |
| I’m guiding blind and bleeding bodies in the bay |
| I’m guiding cold and congregating ululates by accident |
| Part two |
| We continue |
| Each tiny groove the needle fill |
| Contains within what smaller still |
| Analogous ariel |
| Becomes a paper |
| With a hole |
| Propellor of Death is a lucky whirl |
| No shiny climby silver stair |
| Found secret in a book I read |
| Between pages one and a hundred-one |
| Reveal a druggy follicle finding |
| Sweat and pounded’round |
| Some unliving pile |
| Evasive with the vigor of vanity |
| Lapse a dog is symmetrical |
| Sermon on tape to remind me |
| Translation of God into a comedy |
| My constant shady articulation of form |
| An outside exultante |
| I feel it’s iron and brick to a greater profanation |
| Here lies the exultation of an ordained aberrant |
| There isn’t any more time to mend all the moss in the mound |
| Each moist molecule replays the facts in an atomonous web of weary |
| I’m telling you this because I don’t want us to be divided |
| Sojourn and walk a sightless vocation through the murky mezzanine |
| I’m standing atop the crystalline winter weaving |
| That troubles itself to sink in the skyless morning divided |
| Over and over, again and again, the whistling |
| Of the spectral bird that I’m riding |
| A parochial fistula in the furrow of a holy bazaar |
| Behold the gasp that’s my inevitable punctuation |
| I can’t stand in the sight of the eyeless morning divisa |
| Unpopular methods of cosmogonal factuous inimity uncreatin |
| What i see is a marble spiralling 'round a negative drain |