The Mars Volta

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