Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Day Of The Baphomets, artist - The Mars Volta. Album song Amputechture, in the genre Иностранный рокDate of issue: 31.12.2005
Record label: Universal Music
Song language: English
Day Of The Baphomets |
| 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 |