Trinkets Pale of Moon - The Mars Volta

By the landfill I rest

I burn their clothing before I dig into the ground

I am Janus-faced denial with vines

you’re gonna wish you hadn’t run

Clarity is calling me

I hear the hums of tiny beating drums

I feigned umbrage at my bruising fist

you’re gonna wish you hadn’t run

And with these trinkets pale of moon

senescent charms become a bludgeon of wrinkles

when I nurse your tired heart

For every time you hear the strain

of lullabies collapsing

walk towards the echo and let it hold you trembling

Their gourds are punctured easily

amnesia fumes in little twists of silk

induce this multistrobe with melody

you’re gonna wish you hadn’t run

I sing here at the seedy urn

my father taught me when I was young

you wear the tattered fringe of hangnail regalia

you’re gonna wish you hadn’t run

And with these trinkets pale of moon

senescent charms become a bludgeon of wrinkles

when I nurse your tired heart

For every time you hear the strain

of lullabies collapsing

walk towards the echo and let it hold you trembling