Just as he hit the ground, they lowered a tow that stuck in his neck to the gills. Fragments of sobriquets riddle me this; three half eaten corneas who hit the aureole. Stalk the ground...Stalk the ground. You should have seen the curse that flew right by you. Page of concrete sting walks crutch in hobbled sway. Auto-de-fé, a capillary hint of red. Only this manupod, crescent in shape, has escaped.

The house, half the way, fell empty with teeth that split both his lips. Mark these words, one day this chalk outline will circle this city. Was it worth the asphalt that cushioned his face? A room-colored charlatan hid in the safe. Stalk the ground...Stalk the ground. You should have seen the curse that flew right by you. Page of concrete sting walks crutch in hobbled sway. Auto-de-fé, a capillary hint of red. Only this manupod, crescent in shape, has escaped.

Pull the pills. Save your grace. Mark these words on his grave...Pull the pills. Save your grace. Mark these words on his grave...Pull the pills. Save your grace. Mark these words on his grave...You should have seen the curse that flew right by you. Page of concrete sting walks crutch in hobbled sway. Auto-de-fé, a capillary hint of red. Everyone knows the last toes are always the coldest to kill.

"Televators" The Mars Volta