- Recorded:2009 Staygold Studio / Live Oak Studio
- ©2009 Anti Inc.
Some of them died in colliding hearses
In a riot, in some middle hell.
In your metal bar
Can't see the forest
for all the sickening things
pullin on your belt.
Just don't get it.
Some dumb prick
played a trick,
and spun your little crown.
So you muster your whit
and try to spit the bitter pitch
from the corners of your frown.
Ah low thing let you down from your
Cool little carpet ride,
spendin' like a suicide.
Blew the Moon, fucked the Stars, hung it all
left a sign.
It said "no free ride"
(better pack your pride)
Now it's all tied up with lightenings curses.
Things on fire left you lifeless doll.
With your Buenos Aires style empty purses,
mocking bloody fowl cries from labirynth wall.
Sick bird laughs,
points out your gaffs,
dares you to stand but knows you'll drop the ball.
And your map is kind of crap,
S'got you turnin' in circles and doubling back
damn it all,
Cock loves to call the fall!
With a bitter sweet chideing tune,
underneath the jealous moon.
Coldest night's won this fight.
The deepest hole's the highest height you'll see!!
Till you slink and crawl.
Some happy trail unfolds beyond the pale,
round and golden like your over soul.
No more chasing your tail or
so slowed down turn into rainbow.
And the saints go stompin feet,
Forward movin' fingers snappin'.
There will be no more trials.
It's just a matter of miles.
You can almost see the light,
So close to heaven tonight!
soothe your soul
that there's not
many more tolls.
Taste it soon
the magic womb that warms to you
the deepest peace inside the sigh,
Know it'll be alright.