The Mars Volta - Trinkets Pale Of Moon

By the landfill I rest I burn their clothing before I dig into the ground I am Janus-faced denial with vines you'll wish you hadn't run Clarity is calling me I hear the hums of tiny beating drums I feigned umbrage at my bruising fist you'll wish you hadn't run And with these trinkets pale of moon senescent charms become a bludgeon of wrinkles when I nurse your tired heart And every time you hear the screams of lullabies collapsing walk towards the echo and let it hold you trembling Their gourds are punctured easily amnesia fumes in little twists of silk induce this multistrobe with melody you'll 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 wish you hadn't run And with these trinkets pale of moon senescent charms become a bludgeon of wrinkles when I nurse your tired heart And every time you hear the scream of lullabies collapsing walk towards the echo and let it hold you trembling