|
Our days are numbered 666
|
And I'll begin the countdown by calling off the circus
|
Somewhere in these cryptic scriptures
|
I'll find myself drifting in a sky full of scars they cut into you
|
Blisters rose colored hue
|
Mayday we're going down
|
These mescaline memories are morose
|
Your kerosine company is comatose
|
|
Our days are numbered 321
|
And when you bit the bullet I held the smoking gun
|
Somewhere in these violent volumes
|
I'll find myself drifting in a sky full of scars they cut into you
|
Blisters rose colored hue
|
Mayday we're going down
|
These mescaline memories are morose
|
Your kerosine company is comatose
|
|
And I would sick up half of my cold eye
|
to set you on your head
|
If I were you then I would memorize
|
This loose lipped lullaby instead of waiting
|
Carving out your own
|
|
Scars they cut into you
|
Blisters rose colored hue
|
Mayday we're going down
|
Follow we went around
|
Scars they cut into you
|
Blisters rose colored hue
|
Mayday we're going down
|
These mescaline memories are morose
|
Your kerosine company is comatose
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Shatterday
|
Vendetta Red |