The Snake The Cross The Crown

eternitity is pressed against my eyelids by brittle fists that i cannot avoid and though each fingers grip

finally oh this is the morning of six eyes malicious cold dark stares one single gentleman is not even

Mother Mary was a friend to me she went down to the freak house she never wanted to leave so father

we all know, that the tension, is getting higher well it's getting harder, for us, to get along and the

I got your letter, but the willingness wore out, And then penmanship was beautiful at best. Your words were

Humming to himself as he, Is thinking of his latest debts, Juggling some numbered thoughts, Wondering

With hardened hands make a fist and take down, With one desperate hit you're building and shaping the hate

red and yellow through this dirty window pane disturbing your sediments of classic form and thought wrapped

We run off what we can't get enough of We choose to make it painless full of what changes is tonight just going to

a mother went up to the mountain she said it was for gold but all these drums and indians, oh no. said

as I begin to sink into this fate that I have tried so hard to tread while you sit with your magazines your cigarettes

no, don't want the world yeah, cause you'll wanna have everything and don't say that you're

What do you get when you expect so much, Is it regret, Or were they just false hopes that we should

commit your body to advice you can't live with it's hard enough to lose a life that you once lived