Lyrics Dyslexicon - The Mars Volta

Dyslexicon

Nature red in tooth and claw
I haven’t seemed to keep my powder dry
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
The second that I fell in love with the handle of your revolver
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
I beg to you, a second chance with a dried white rose to Bethlehem
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
Am I the valency that you deny?
In the time of the sixth sun
We are cattle to the prod
I burn this dictionary because that’s my dyslexicon
When I collapse and bury all the things
Unconsciously I hear cackling in chloroform this spectre will ensnare
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
A braided strand from childrens mane
Acquired with impunity
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
The things you say to me are deaf in tongue
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
Am I the valency that you deny?
In the time of the sixth sun we are cattle to the prod
I burn this dictionary because that’s my dyslexicon
You’ve never tasted heaven
Stood the mother filled with grief
In the wake of Monday mourning finds a culprit void of breath with guile
If fate is your endearment
Through pistil and through stem
In the wake of Monday mourning
And on the seventh day you will come to find that my prism is not color blind
In death’s mosaic spirit
That’s why I repent
That’s why I go under
In the time of the sixth sun
We are cattle to the prod
I burn this dictionary because that’s my dyslexicon