The Mars Volta - Trinkets Pale of Moon

By the landfill I lust
I burn the clothing before I dig into the ground
I am Janus-faced denial with vines
you'll gonna wish you hadn't run

And clarity is calling me
I hear the hearts of tiny beating drums
I feigned umbrage at my bruising fist
you'll gonna wish you hadn't run

And with these trinkets pale of moon
senescent charms become a bludgeon of wrinkles
when I nurse your tattered hole

For every time you hear the strain
of lullabies collapsing
walk towards the echo let it hold you trembling

Their gourds are punctured easily
amnesia fumes in little twists of silk
induce this multistrobe with melody
you'll gonna wish you hadn't run

I sing here at the seedy urn
my father taught me when I was young
you wear the tattered fringe of hangnail regalia
you'll gonna wish you hadn't run

And with these trinkets pale of moon
senescent charms become a bludgeon of wrinkles
when I nurse your tattered hole

And every time you hear the strain
of lullabies collapsing
walk towards the echo and let it hold you trembling