Tekster: Mars Volta. Octahedron. Luciforms.

How much do you make in that death factory?
Severance owed in the chamber of revolvers
Empty jails fall from my scalp, shake the globe and let me out
If still I can remember the day that they took you from me

Seems like I've been running from your trenchant memory
Harp sickle will warn me when it's over
'Cause if heaven breathes then someone trade places with me
'Cause I don't want to tear feathers instead of rags, instead of rags

When do I get to see the body preserved inside this grin
Sewn in the lips were her last words
I'll be damned, I can still hear her laughing

Your angels have tangled their brass again
The comfort of doubt, still it keeps you thin
And still I can remember the day that they took you from me


Seems like I've been running from your trenchant memory
Harp sickle will warn me when it's over
'Cause if heaven breathes then someone trade places with me
'Cause I don't want to tear feathers instead of rags, instead of rags

Does your temperature ache? Is your glass about to break?
Are you purple with currant? Will you now become the servant?
Gordian knots in the power lines, saucer fills to empty with pesticide
Like the pharaohs of old bury me in gold

I'll make your son refuse to fight
In the stalk home setting that we provide
If your heart does cease to speak
My fingernail choir will make your chalkboard sing