The Mars Volta
Текст песни Miranda That Ghost Just Isnt Holy Anymore B Pour Another Icepick

I think I've become one of the others.
I think I've become one of the others.
I think I've become one of the others.

There was a frail serum dripping off his lap-danced lapel
Punctuated by her decrepit brow, she washed down the hatching gizzard.
Soft as a mane of needles, his orifice icicles hemorrhaged by combing her torso into a pile.
Perspired, the trophy shelves made room for his collapse
She was a mink hand job in sarcophagus heels.

Bring me to my knees
Read the sharpened lines
All my arms bled me blind.
Faucet leaks in shadows spilling from morgue lancet caressed your fontanel.
I've sworn to kill every last one, every last one.
Panic in the shakes of the wounded,
Panic in the worms,
Onto the floor and out of your mouth and out of your eyelids.

No, there's no light in the darkest of your furthest reaches.
No, there's no light in the darkest of your furthest reaches.

All your dreams, splintered off
Leech by leech, on this catafalque.
Anyone will tell you - yes, anyone
Chance had me setting the trip wire alarm.
Your mother flirted, with disease, when she skinned that costume by it's navel strings.
Panic in the shakes of the wounded,
Panic in the worms
Onto the floor, and out of your mouth out of your eyelids.

No, there's no light in the darkest of your furthest reaches.
No, there's no light in the darkest of your furthest reaches.
No, there's no light in the darkest of your furthest reaches.
No, there's no light in the darkest of your furthest reaches.

Shockless shackles free you boldface cons.
Abandon you again - I won't feel, not this time.

Shockless shackles free you boldface cons.
Abandon you again - I won't feel, not this time.