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The Mars Volta |
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Miscellaneous |
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The Widow |
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he's got fasting black lungs |
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made of clothes splintered shares |
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they're the kind that will talk through wheeezing of coughs |
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and i hear him every night in very pore every times it makes me want to |
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breathe without an answer free from all in shame must i hide cause ill never never sleep alone |
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look at how they flock him to an asile of open sores he knows that the taste is such is such to die for |
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and i hear him every night on every street the scales that do sliver deliver me from |
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breathe with out anwers free from all in shame must i hide cause ill never never sleep alone |
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say that say that im blood shot for sure pay that i ride on a ghost im floating in the shore floting on the shore |
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every night in every pore the sclaes that do slither deliver me breathe with out answer free from all in shame and i hide cause ill never never sleep alone |
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breathe with out answer free from all in shame |
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let me die cause ill never never sleep alone |
