My eyes won't pretend
|
I didn't know you were close
|
I can smell your breath
|
Through a freshly painted door
|
Stand here in your haste
|
While I pour three more glasses of burgundy
|
And you can lick the dust from the bottle
|
|
|
Wall's bricked with books
|
Pages bricked with words
|
Each mark has been stained in your honor
|
Ground shadow staggers restless
|
From the window cross the candle to the corner
|
My blood and water's warm as you near me
|
|
|
I'm not begging for mercy
|
I see no love of mercy in you
|
I'm not begging for mercy
|
I'm only waiting for the sound
|
Of the morning birds
|
To send you away
|
|
|
Wax is cooled, hard
|
Sights is going past the yard
|
In this house I make more shadows than you
|
Stand there in your hate
|
While I drink from the second burgundy
|
And you can rattle the glass cross your belly
|
|
|
I'm not begging for mercy
|
I see no love of mercy in you
|
I'm not begging for mercy
|
I'm only waiting for the sound
|
Of the morning birds
|
To send you away
|
|
|
I'm not begging for mercy
|
I'm not begging for mercy
|
I'm only waiting for the sound
|
Of the morning birds to swallow you...
|
|
-----------------
|
Mercy
|
Widespread Panic |