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The Mars Volta
The Mars Volta


Background information
Origin El Paso, Texas, United States
Genre(s) Progressive Rock
Experimental Rock
Psychedelic Rock
Hard Rock
Art Rock
Jazz Fusion
Post-Hardcore
Years active 2001—present
Label(s) Universal
Gold Standard Laboratories
Associated acts Racer X
De Facto
Big Sir
Vato Negro
Website Website
Members
Omar Rodríguez-López
Marcel Rodríguez-López
Cedric Bixler-Zavala
Isaiah "Ikey" Owens
Juan Alderete
Deantoni Parks
Former members
Eva Gardner
Jeremy Michael Ward
Jon Theodore
Blake Fleming
Ralph Jasso
Jason Lader
Linda Good
Adrián Terrazas-González
Paul Hinojos
Thomas Pridgen
Dave Elitch



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  T  →  The Mars Volta  →  Lyrics  →  Meccamputechture

The Mars Volta Lyrics

"Meccamputechture" lyrics



Amputechture came
Philistine praise
Bottomless pit
Of empty names
Incarcerated habits
Pour from the palms
Severing the breat
Nursing all the young

They needed those locks of dirty red hair
Necklace of follicles
With sabertooth monocles
They want a bouquet of black rose gems
Casrating kisses
Stalgtite stems

They went and built a capsule
In the cyanide pond
Where the holiest of water
Would have you to drown

Tomorrow we forget
Because now has never left
You gotta find my body
In the mechacontext
You give me a corpse
You live in it now
You stir from a camp
Nourishment plows

Please dismantle
All these phantom limbs
It's the evidence
Of humans as ornaments

Everyone stabs all the time
Persuasion deflowers your sympathy
Everybody has chosen to help
The shovels that bury me

This dirt is turning christ
To make repent again
So I've heard
They're cutting
All the youngest ones
Said this dirt is turning christ
To make repent his lust
So I've heard
That the puppet
Tugs its pull

Please dismantle
All these phantom limbs
It's the evidence
Of humans as ornaments

Everyone stabs all the time
Persuasion deflowers your sympathy
Everybody has chosen to help
The shovels that bury me

Nova meat
The prude slit whisper
Of bovine heaps
Strapped to unearth
Of mantis flowers
Prunefingers who tug
In a zealot's shroud
I will scald supreme truth
As it touches this house
Ill scald supreme truth

Please dismantle
All these phantom limbs

It's the evidence
Of humans as orntaments

Scald supreme truth as
It touches this house

Chorus

It lacks a human pulse

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