There's a Polaroid of a young me
In a bad suit by the old baptism pool
Offered evidence on the altars in the treetops
Of a wind that wouldn't know me
I was thinking about the number of the beast
The gentleman who planted this fruit And you,
your space too
Long go the day,
long go the night
Until everything will be aligned
Into the den of what we've become Mother's bristle of the wicked one
Hunger for that precious energy Hunger for that precious energy
I was a capsule spilled,
the ropes were tied The ropes stayed to
rest and we stood shoulder to shoulder
The many eyes of the neon wheel Cast
back into a grotesque countenance
Where the voltage was a tunnel running
between The seven lights and the seven wonders
The angel sighs,
the angel hungers
Long go the day,
long go the night
Until everything will be aligned
Into the den of what we've become Mother's bristle of the wicked one
We are guilty and that guilt can build a throne
I'll take my chances, sleeping at the devil's
field Sleeping at the devil's field
Dolan ring