The Mars Volta

Vicarious Atonement

Don't you pretend

That I'm not alive

My bones never ache

Unless she's nearby

Where is your face?

In a safe of dead tongues

I can see your reflection

In your totem first born

I suspect

You've been carry a pack of wolves

I regret

Not killing you while i had the chance



Maybe i will always haunt you

Mark the somnolence with truth

Better hang your dead palace

Than have a living home to lose

In the river Ganges, God damns my name



Don't let these hands

Sharpen your eyes

A rasp of tails