Meccamputechture - The Mars Volta

Amputechture came

Philistine praise

Bottomless pit of empty names

Incarcerated habits pour from the palms

Severing the breast

Nursing all the young

They needed those locks

Of dirty red hair

A necklace of follicles with sabertooth monocles

They want a bouquet of black rose gems

Castrating kisses stalactite stems

They went and built a capsule in the cyanide pond

Where the holiest of water would have you to drown

Tomorrow we forget

'cause now has never left

You gotta find my body

In the mechacontext

You give me a corpse

You live in it now

You stir from a camp nourishment plows

Please dismantle all these phantom limbs

It’s the evidence of humans as ornaments

Humans as ornaments

Humans as ornaments

Humans as ornaments

Everyone stabs all the time

Persuasion deflowers your sympathy

Everybody has chosen to help

The shovels that bury me

This dirt

Is turning Christ to make repent again

So I’ve heard

They’re cutting all the youngest ones

Said this dirt

Is turning Christ to make repent his lust

So I’ve heard

That the puppet tugs its pull

Please dismantle all these phantom limbs

It’s the evidence of humans as ornaments

Humans as ornaments

Humans as ornaments

Humans as ornaments

Everyone stabs all the time

Persuasion deflowers your sympathy

Everybody has chosen to help

The shovels that bury me

Nova meat

The prude slit whisper of bovine heaps

Strapped to unearth of mantis flowers

Prune fingers who tug in a zealot’s shroud

I will scald supreme truth

As it touches this house

I will scald supreme truth

Please dismantle all these phantom limbs

It’s the evidence of humans as ornaments

Humans as ornaments

Humans as ornaments

Humans as ornaments

Scald supreme truth as it touches this house

Scald supreme truth as it touches this house

Everyone stabs all the time

Persuasion deflowers your sympathy

Everybody has chosen to help

The shovels that bury me

Everyone stabs all the time

Persuasion deflowers your sympathy

Everybody has chosen to help

The shovels that bury me

It lacks a human pulse