| Sawing off the pavement
|
| Repenting their past lives
|
| Might I be the only payment left
|
| To be left behind
|
| Clay and pigment footsteps
|
| Rust it boiling clean
|
| Our bull let in linguistics
|
| That only we can breathe
|
| I gotta prayer that’ll make you theirs now
|
| Beneath sepulchers
|
| Raise your entrails as an offer
|
| Fondling with pitchforks
|
| In a cattle prodded sea
|
| Signaling the sedatives
|
| To emaciate their queen
|
| Bowing in constriction
|
| Anytime you leave
|
| We snuffed ourselves an angel
|
| And cut her by the wings
|
| I gotta prayer that’ll make you theirs now
|
| Beneath sepulchers
|
| Raise your entrails as an offer
|
| In my sight I was born
|
| To bring death at the footsteps of your home
|
| Tonight
|
| I have sewn
|
| All the hair and crooked nails
|
| That you all have worn
|
| While your wife
|
| Sits at home
|
| I plant the vermin
|
| Because she needs it so
|
| How long must we fold by hand
|
| The nuns are burning wheels again
|
| Dent of mattress to make it bare
|
| Come clean with the anecdote
|
| After all we came undone
|
| Pale of sluts with host at fault
|
| One day we won’t pay your debt
|
| Our centipedes will get theirs yet
|
| Poachers in your home
|
| Poachers in your home
|
| How long must we fold by hand
|
| The nuns are burning wheels again
|
| Dent of mattress to make it bare
|
| Come clean with the anecdote
|
| After all we came undone
|
| Pale of sluts with host at fault
|
| One day we won’t pay your debt
|
| Our centipedes will get theirs yet
|
| Fold the river by the lips
|
| As a cruel and smothered wind
|
| Fits the gash with ornaments
|
| Dawn is nodding off again
|
| Raised the braille to read it clear
|
| Gathered by the cholera
|
| Rinse the burns in cauldrons
|
| Help the palm we see a lens
|
| My hands secrete a monument
|
| My hands secrete a monument
|
| I am the reason
|
| Four your missing child
|
| They might be home
|
| But there’s no trace
|
| Under your pillow
|
| I have left a spine
|
| Oh the things we do
|
| When you’re away
|
| I saw the message
|
| That you wrote in the sand
|
| Dismembered hints that carve away
|
| The anesthetic of your gospel said
|
| Put a muzzle on the lamb
|
| Give me one page
|
| Give me one page
|
| Make it blank
|
| Mace that I leak
|
| Will rain
|
| Give me one page
|
| Give me one page
|
| Make it blank
|
| Race I inflict
|
| Your way
|
| Maybe one day you’ll stop and realize
|
| The throne that you serve is dead
|
| Give me a plague
|
| Give me a plague
|
| Make it blank
|
| Nothing you own is safe |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Day Of The Baphomets , by - The Mars Volta. Song from the album Amputechture, in the genre Иностранный рок