Day Of The Baphomets (Album Version)

Day Of The Baphomets (Album Version)

The Mars Volta

Sawing off the pavement
Repenting their past lives
Might I be the only pain that's left to be left behind?
Clay and pygmy footsteps
Rusted, boil it clean
A bullet in linguistics
That only we can breathe

Now, I got a prayer that'll make you theirs now
Beneath sepulchres
Raise your entrails as an offer
Now, I got a prayer that'll make you theirs now
Beneath sepulchres
Raise your entrails as an offer

Following with pitchforks
In a cattle prodded theme
Signaling the sedative
To emaciate the queen
Bowing in constriction
Any time you leave
We've slipped ourselves in angels
In catabata leaves

Now, I got a prayer that'll make you theirs now
Beneath sepulchres
Raise your entrails as an offer
Now, I got a prayer that'll make you theirs now
Beneath sepulchres
Raise your entrails as an offer

In my sign I was born
To bring death at the footsteps of your home
Tonight I have sown
All the hair and crooked nails
That you all have worn
While your white sense of hope
I plant the vermin
Just who makes it so?

How long must we fold our hands?
Our guts are burning wheels again
Get a match that will make you thin
Come clean with the antidote
After all we came undone
A pair of sluts with hosts that fall
One day we will pay your debt
Our centipedes will pick the dead

Poachers in your home

How long must we fold our hands?
Our guts are burning wheels again
Get a match that will make you thin
Come clean with the antidote
After all we came undone
A pair of sluts with hosts that fall
One day we will pay your debt
Our centipedes will pick the dead

Follow every bottle out
And the cruelest smut, smut you know
It's the gash that autumn knows
Daughters lying at the door
Raise the body
Breathe your clear air
Everybody will call aloud
Everybody calls aloud
Everybody sing aloud

My hands secrete a monument

I am the reason
For your missing child
He might be home
But there's no trace
Under your pillow
I have left a spine
All the things we do
When you're away
I saw the message
That you wrote in the sand
Dismembered heads that come away
The anaesthetic of your gospel sin
Put a muzzle on the lamb
Put a muzzle on the lamb

Give me one page
Give me one page
Make it blank
Mix it, a leak will rain
Give me one page
Give me one page
Make it blank
We shall inflict your way

Maybe one day you'll stop and realize
All that you serveis dead
Give me your plate
Give me your plate
Make it break
Nothing you hold is safe

How long must we fold our hands?
Our guts are burning wheels again
Get a match that will make you thin
Come clean with the antidote
After all we came undone
A pair of sluts with hosts that fall
One day we will pay your debt
Our centipedes will pick the dead

Poachers in your home

Written by RODRIGUEZ, OMAR/BIXLER, CEDRIC
Published by EMI Music Publishing

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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