My head is a crowded city where every citizen's hair is on fire
On the corner there's a chapel where all my mother's prayers are a choir
And all my dreams they back down the alley ways
Aberration has a mortem lidless stare
Always have to waste some
To pluck the shiny ones
Only have to wait some
For these accoutrements
A thousand captive but not confined
And they're only set free one at a time
A thousand voices, a one track mind
These here rubber band hands stretchin' wide
And all my dreams they back down the alley ways
Aberration has a mortem blinkless stare
Always have to waste some
To pluck the shiny ones
Only have to wait some
For these accoutrements
Parting words from me and the others
Think before you throw my broke a** away