Artist: The Mars Volta
Song: cassandra geminni: plant a nail in the navel stream
Album: Frances the Mute
Year: 2005
There was a frail syrup dripping off his lap danced lapel
punctuated by her decrepit prowl
she washed down the hatching
Gizzard soft as a mane of needles
His orifice icicles hemorrhaged
By combing her torso to a pile
Perspired the trophy shelves made room for his collapse
She was a mink handjob in sarcophagus heels...
Bring me to my knees
Read the sharpened lines
All my arms
Bled me blind
Faucet leaks in shadows
Spilling from morgue lancet
Caressed your fontanelle
I've sworn to kill
Every last one
Every last one
Panic in the shakes of the wounded
Panic in the worms
Onto the floor
And out of your mouth
Out of your eyelids
No there's no light
In the darkest of your furthest reaches
No there's no light
In the darkest of your furthest reaches
All your dreams
splintered off
Leech by leech
On this catafalque
Anyone will tell you
Yes anyone
Chance had me setting a trip wire alarm
Your mother flirted with disease
When she skinned that costume
by it's navel strings
Panic in the shakes of the wounded
Panic in the worms
Onto the floor
And out of your mouth
Out of your eyelids
No there's no light
In the darkest of your furthest reaches
No there's no light
In the darkest of your furthest reaches
No there's no light
In the darkest of your furthest reaches
No there's no light
In the darkest of your furthest reaches
