Tekster: The Gone Jackals. 13x.

One enchanted evening,
As I lay on my bed,
I took two little square mirrors
And placed them end to end.

Then, just to play with the moonlight,
I raised one ninety degrees.
That s when the spokes started spinning -
Sucked my soul from it s eaves.

Thirteen times I ve sipped the wine -
Dispelled the myth of time.
Took the heat of the sacrifice
And returned to ride.
13x.

Takes it s toll on the flesh and bones,
This dimensional dance.
If curiousity s killing me -
It s got the seat of my pants.


So, if you re lookin for answers
Or just out for kicks,
Don t be a distant cousin.
You all know where I live.

I ll walk you through where the mirrors meet
To a place
We ll be free to speak.
Between the sadness of sacrifice
To the belly
Of the beast.
The seventh son of the setting sun
Lays a shroud
On all that s black and white.
The narcotic of nightmare
Pulses greyness out
In silvery sheets.