on the mountaintop
the flowers sing in d-minor
and with glassy eyes
they will expose their own weaknesses
in the candlelight
they seem to fade into the background yeah
and the hanged man laughs
insipid letters drip from the tongue
in the naked light
the sunbeams fleeing from the mouth of god
what a twisted sound
electric coughs and sempiternal howls
upon the hallowed ground
the evening shadows forming cursive shapes
i don't seem to mind
the dagger floats in its abstraction yeah
beneath the salt and fire
the prophet rises from the canyon's maw
and the ashes fall
the lizards writhing in my stomach tonight
still boredom calls
the plastic children in single file
my reflection walks
the mangled corpse that speaks in riddles

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