Put Your Teeth In Lyrics - Until The Horror Goes - John Congleton

I'm not living like I should leave no witness 

I keep showing up for life leave no witness 

A never ending song I'm heading for the most predictable cadence 

You're a librarian burning books, love 

A lion, a witch, and a wardrobe 

A human hurricane, a derailing train 

You've made horror, you've made a horrible mess 

And who do you think you are to question the tower? 

To jump in the choir and sing like it's something you'd offer? 

And who do you think you woo when you ponder the yonder? 

Or shake your fist high at the sky, tell me why should we bother? 

Who do you think you are all piggish and stipend? 

The storm is the bastard, your face is the face that it's slapping 

And there's a woman that I know with some syndrome 

She frantically decorates her sweet home 

She boards up the cracks to ward off attacks 

From the wind and... and... and... 

And she kisses me there on the hearthstone 

Where deep down we both know we're alone 

We're human hurricanes, spinning weather veins 

We make horror, you've made a horrible mess 

And who do you think you are to question the tower? 

To jump in the choir and sing like it's something you'd offer? 

And who do you think you woo 

When you slumber a slaughter? 

Or shake your fist high at the sky, tell me why should we bother? Why bother? 

The storm slaps your wrist, you'll drip dollars and cents 

Over back beat accents and piano's suspense 

While the ocean's intent [?] and the patrons lament on the horror 

And the flare light is blinding but yet it's inviting 

The writers keep writing, the typewriters typing 

The poets are pining, the actors are lying 

It's horror, we've made a horrible mess and 

Who do you think you are to stare at the mountain? 

To join in the fire and stew like it's some warmth you'd offer? 

And what do you think you prove when you murder a monster? 

And scream out the words "Tell me why" why the fuck should we bother? 

What do you think you prove all piggish and stipend 

to stare at your navels and constantly pick out your coffin?