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Bleeding black sheep boy, mirror in pieces. |
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Turn the receiver, trace the police station |
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Line to my number and number my reasons for this paranoia, for these accusations. |
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Each night the numbers paired off like lovers, collided together so |
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I can't remember my name or my nation. |
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Baying black sheep boy. |
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Go back beyond the pasture, you cracked out of my head. |
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Get in your battered |
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Mustang and the back seat will be your bed. |
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Burning black sheep boy, dark denim phantom. |
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Face full of flames, the ears full of cheers that have fanned them. |
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I'd slice off the horns that sprung right from those temples |
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I was chased from my bedroom, |
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I was chased from my candles. |
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By fear of the numbers, paired off like lovers, collided together so |
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I can't remember my face or my station. |
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Pacing black sheep boy. |
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The floor just won't support you, |
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You hovered through the room. |
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Get in your battered |
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Mustang and the backseat will be your tomb. |
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And I rode into |
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Baltimore and |
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I found a hotel room where |
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I tried to escape you, but the phone line wouldn't go through. |
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And inside the mirror, well |
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I saw you stamping staring out |
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I'd recognize your eyes |
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You fell for any of the lines that come flying out. |
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Nothing I've heard from you sounds sane or safe. |
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Words falling down from the ceiling where the mirror is stealing the light to reveal us both tonight and we're both kneeling in the black pool of your shadow. |
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You've cracked out of my head. |
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Go back beyond the pasture, where |
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I'll smash your mirror till you're dead. |
