Mars Volta - Tetragammaton

Tell me it's over
rusbel awaits
i've been to the surface
and nothing is there
eyelids sank muffled
in the nerve aura sound
but when she awakes
will she still be with us

my heart is darkclots
leap year is late
how did you get here
ask all but the bait
from a christ that went hissing
constricting his cells
we summon by candle by book and by bell

glossolalia coats my skin
glycerin and turbulence stuffed the voice inside of god
mirrors to the animals

the sermon goes mourning
pricking it's hail
slothful the child
that preys on the seed
shall behead the drough
wound under sleeves
i hope you have room
in a thicket of vines

give me a moment
to clean what you've stole
the streets will hang high
stretch ribs and let taste
we'll cover the smell with silver nitrate
mending the cuts of your prosthetic faith