| You must have been phlegmatic in stature
|
| The gates of Thanos are-a spread eagle wide
|
| You let the shutters make sackcloth and ashes
|
| Out of a blind man’s picaresque heart
|
| You take the veil
|
| You take the dive
|
| You take the veil
|
| It’s not over till the tremulant sings
|
| These ides of March, are they so make believe?
|
| How tempts the revenant
|
| Slice up and not across
|
| You take the veil
|
| You take the dive
|
| You take the veil
|
| A mass of gallon sloth (They're gonna get you)
|
| As flies have walls for feet
|
| A rapturous verbatim (You better run now)
|
| Someone said, but who’s to know?
|
| And when you find the fringe (They won’t let you)
|
| The one last hit that spent you
|
| You’ll find the ossuary (You better fight now)
|
| Spilling by the day
|
| Iconoclastic had it coming for years
|
| They know the prisons you have yet to fear
|
| Where thumbs hide inside of sleeping bag mouths
|
| Ad-libbing memoirs, casting a drought
|
| You take the veil
|
| You take the dive
|
| You take the veil
|
| A mass of gallon sloth (They're gonna get you)
|
| As flies have walls for feet
|
| A rapturous verbatim (You better run now)
|
| Someone said, but who’s to know?
|
| And when you find the fringe (They won’t let you)
|
| The one last hit that spent you
|
| You’ll find the ossuary (You better fight now)
|
| Spilling by the day
|
| Knife me in, hobbling
|
| Talking in its sleep again
|
| Knife me in, hobbling
|
| Talking in its sleep again
|
| Knife me in, hobbling
|
| Talking in its sleep again
|
| Knife me in, hobbling
|
| Talking in its sleep again
|
| Oh! |
| Virulent hives of bedpost piles
|
| Virulent hives, virulent hives
|
| Who brought me here?
|
| Forsaken, deprived and wrought with fear
|
| Who turned it off?
|
| The last thing I remember now
|
| Who brought me here?
|
| Forsaken, deprived and wrought with fear
|
| Who turned it off?
|
| The last thing I remember now
|
| Who brought me here? |