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2009 |
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. . .
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Death, she must have been your will
A bone beneath the reaper's veil
With your voice my belly sunk
And I began to feel so drunk
Candle, candle, on my clock
Oh Lord, I must have heard you knock me out of bed
As the flames licked my head
And my lungs filled up black in their tiny little shack
It was real and I repent
All those messages you sent, clear as day, but in the night
Oh, I couldn't get it right
Here is a church and here is a steeple
Open the doors there are the people
And all their little hearts at ease
For another week's disease
And eagle, eagle, talon, and scream
I never once left in between
I was on the fence and I never wanted your two cents
Down my throat, in the pit, with my head upon the spit
Oh Reverend, please, can I chew your ear?
I have become what I most fear
And I know there's no such thing as ghosts
But I have seen the demon host
. . .
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Lay down in the tall grass
in a flat-bottom boat
Lay down and wait for you
with nothing but a piece of rope
Dreaming every night of you
Shaking at the sight
I'll be dreaming every night of you
I'll be shaking at the sight - of - you
Will you beg for forgiveness?
Will you pray to be saved?
Will you choke your children when they spit in your face?
Dreaming every night of you
Shaking at the sight
I'll be dreaming every night of you
I'll be shaking at the sight
I dreamt you found me out in a field
You tripped over my site
And you dug me out of this shallow grave
with your Swiss Army knife
And only you could revive me, so badly decomposed
I was bone white, dry, and scaly
but you still took me home
Dreaming every night of you
Shaking at the sight of you
I'll be dreaming every night of you
And how could you be so serene?
Motivation unclear
In a late basement seance that brought us to tears
Dreaming every night of you
Shaking at the sight
Oh, I'll be dreaming every night of you
I'll be shaking at the sight
I dreamt you found me out in a field
You tripped over my site
and you dug me out of this shallow grave
with your Swiss Army knife
and only you could revive me, so badly decomposed
I was bore white, dry, and scaly
but you still took me home
Dreaming every night of you
Shaking at the sight of you
I'll be dreaming every night of you
. . .
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There is a house in New Orleans
Where you woke from a coma and they bit your cheek
And they cleaned you out when you went to sleep
Oh, I just wanna change your mind
I just wanna change your mind
And it might become right away
It might become till the day I'm done
And I saw it as the house caught fire
And I saw it when the thief got brave
It's like a night, night, crawler, crawlin' out in the yard
And it's comin' over me in waves
But you're haunted by the morning sun
You keep digging till the night is over
I ain't no doctor, babe
I ain't no doctor, son
But I'll cool your fever till the doctor comes
It's a miracle, babe, but it ain't no fun
I just wanna change your mind
I just wanna change your mind
It might become right away
It might become till the day I'm done
And I saw it as the house caught fire
And I saw it when the thief got brave
It's like a night, night, crawler, crawlin' out in the yard
And it's comin' over me in waves
But it's not here now
It's the chance of it I hate
It's a hundred thousand miles off
Comin' closer everyday
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mystic palm, gem and tarot
a few escape your magic arrow
i saw you reel them in for miles
each captivated crooked smile
and you know you can heal them all
your double diamond disposition
refractions of your center prism
your magic arrow flies precision
and you saw it from that vantage point
perimeter scratched on the nation's native hide
and we saw those christian clippers glide
over white caps and white sails hide
over white knuckles
and i was fine till i saw the pale horse ride
and open up it's gape across the ocean floor
you were fine till you saw the white rider take
and take some more
our mother's milk double faro
a few escape your magic arrow
and with a christ as bayonet
oh you siphoned off the hellion's threats
and even in your ghastly visions
your magic arrow flies precision
whistles fly like a boiling potion
charges like a locomotive
and you saw it from that vantage point
perimeter scratched on the nation's native hide
and we saw those christian clippers glide
over white caps and white sails and hide
over white knuckles
and you were fine till you saw the pale horse ride
open up it's gape across the ocean floor
you were fine till you saw the white rider take
and take some more...
. . .
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Do your actions mention, your heart's intentions,
We'll Find Out x2
Is your mind mistaken, is your conscience not at ease,
We'll Find Out x2
Do you strive to deny each kindred spirit in the room,
We'll Find Out x2
And is your highest pleasure now, the misfortune of fools,
We'll Find out x2
You hide nothing, just believe it, we all see it
oooohhhh ooh ooohh
In the basement, you did wait, wondering what they would do, and you could not accept the fate
of three thousand volts through you
and there is nothing you could say
only what you should have done
and you should have walked away
instead you're living on the run
Now it's coming forth, the sea
and it's moving through the trees
it is the wind before your hand
as its coming down upon me
you hide nothing
just believe it
We all see it
. . .
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if i could i would turn
back into dust
you would look so good to me
i could almost taste it
one moment im a king
the next minute im nothing
i just wanted to feel alright
but its not that simple
i get low low low low low low
on my own
i get low low low low low low
on my own
in the palm of my hand
an empire summoned
as if it was born
all substance crumbled
it was a vain attempt
at the meaning of life
i should have better ways
of spending my time
Like climb the mountain
Like sail the sea
Like build my house up
Or start my family
it's time to get out
it's time to make a living
i reach the summit
but i come tumblin back down
i get low low low low low low
on my own
i get low low low low low low
on my own
. . .
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I want your money
But your money ain't right
So I'm packing it in
I stay at home every night
... tbc
. . .
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You're no bold villain
You're bought and sold
To have a soulmate
You need a soul
Not born of men
But some [bog mother?] moon
One of us is not normal
And it might not be you
I was a spook for you
Another ghoul
I was a fool for you
Another stool pigeon
I was the kid
See she was the clown
And you took north
When things went south
But you're no bold villain
You're bought and sold
To have a soulmate
You need a soul
Not born of men
But some [bog mother?] moon
One of us is not normal
And it might not be you
. . .
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