The Widow

The Mars Volta

Miscellaneous

The Widow

he's got fasting black lungs

made of clothes splintered shares

they're the kind that will talk through wheeezing of coughs

and i hear him every night in very pore every times it makes me want to

breathe without an answer free from all in shame must i hide cause ill never never sleep alone

look at how they flock him to an asile of open sores he knows that the taste is such is such to die for

and i hear him every night on every street the scales that do sliver deliver me from

breathe with out anwers free from all in shame must i hide cause ill never never sleep alone

say that say that im blood shot for sure pay that i ride on a ghost im floating in the shore floting on the shore

every night in every pore the sclaes that do slither deliver me breathe with out answer free from all in shame and i hide cause ill never never sleep alone

breathe with out answer free from all in shame

let me die cause ill never never sleep alone