Better think of my answers now because I know the questions will be asked.
Like if I brought the joy I found in the confessions of a mask.
The tip of my tongue's already touching the top of my mouth.
Its meaning manifest in mercy burning down burning down,
Burning down, burning down,
Burning down, burning down,
Burning down the house.
It's true that tactless teem totem-poles turn tolerance to tired taboos.
It's true that a bullet never knocks on the door, it's about to come crashing through.
It's true that tactless teem totem-poles turn tolerance to tired taboos.
It's true that a bullet never knocks on the door, it's about to come crashing through.
I'm walking one last mile in big steps as your alter-wine,
I'm doing it in tattered shoes that aren't even mine
Because my own are in a box locked up with possessions I can't have,
Like the gunman with his future and the prison priest's golden calf.
Walking one last mile...
Walking one last mile...
Blindfolds aside I'd probably still close my eyes (Walking one last mile...)
And try to feel a trembling fetal life inside (Walking one last mile...)
That shotgun barrel that's about to make me bleed,
Like an ulcer in the stomach of the beast.
Like a little girl on a bed that was years ago deceased.
Resurrected last night with a letter she can't trace.
Like a little girl on a bed that was years ago deceased.
Resurrected last night with a letter she can't trace.
Resurrected to be killed then maybe born again.
I'll always be Kezia so long as any hope remains.
Resurrected to be killed then maybe born again.
I'll always be Kezia so long as any hope remains.
Resurrected to be killed then maybe born again.
I'll always be Kezia so long as any hope remains.