| I want your blood inside my head
|
| I send this overture to the living dead
|
| Regain your foothold in the ice
|
| Incant your fevers to the pairs of eyes
|
| There’s much ado about the sun
|
| I choose the moon 'cause it’s the colder one
|
| I want its glow
|
| Its milk
|
| Its dust
|
| I want some hands that I can trust
|
| To fix all the fences up
|
| And to trap all the tigers
|
| They’re anxious
|
| To learn where they belong
|
| I’m underneath the barrier
|
| I am the tonic to the furious burn
|
| I am the mouth to the medicine
|
| I will be your mouth to the medicine
|
| And I’ll fix all these fences up
|
| And I’ll trap all these tigers
|
| They’re anxious
|
| To learn where they belong
|
| And now that it’s over
|
| Will you burn from your drowning gills
|
| For the ocean to fill you up?
|
| And now that it’s over
|
| Does the fallout just burn your lungs?
|
| Is it worse than it ever was?
|
| Can I fix all these fences up?
|
| And can I trap all these tigers?
|
| They’re anxious to learn where they belong
|
| And now that it’s over
|
| Will you burn from your drowning gills
|
| For the ocean to fill you up?
|
| I want your blood inside my head
|
| I want your blood inside my head
|
| I want your blood inside my head |