The Mars Volta

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 bullet in linguistics
That only we can breathe
I gotta prayer that'll make 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 gott a prayer that'll make theris 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 vermon
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 you 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