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