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The Mars Volta - Miranda That Ghost Just Isn't Holy Anymore: Pour Another Icepick lyrics
I think I've become like one of the others I think I've become like one of the others I think I've become like one of the others There was a frail syrup dripping off His lap danced lapel, punctuated by her Decrepit prowl she washed down the hatching Gizzard soft as a mane of needles His orifice icicles hemorrhaged By combing her torso to 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 fontanelle 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 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 a 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 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 No there's no light, in the darkest Of your furthest reaches Shock lest shackles free you Volt face cons abandon you again I won't feel not this time Shock lest shackles free you Volt face cons abandon you again I won't feel not this time. |
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