Из альбома: Snowbeast

Moving in units and dying alone
Building a glass and glue gelatin throne


Stuck in familiar; in milk and in bone
And in warning

We'll hit the sidewalk and turn on the heat
Live for a moment and die so discreet

Just like the clown who wore black to the beach
Selling blood

People, looking glass people,
Saturday people

Will live one final time

-To reach,(holy calabaroo!)

-Shaking the whitened hand,(holy calabaroo!)


Much more than we can love


Halos for maniacs bent out of shape
Still they will circle the crystalline gates

Along with the pirates who sailed there too late
On a log

I'll be here waiting, -for what? I don't know
With hands like a fly trap and hair that won't grow

A mescaline freak out in an off-Broadway show
In the morning

People, looking glass people,
Saturday people

Will live one final time

-To reach,(holy calabaroo!)

-Shaking the whitened hand,(holy calabaroo!)

Much more than we can love (holy calabaroo!)

Inches towards the beast ,(holy calabaroo!)

This is

::instrumentation::

Комментарии