Day Of The Baphomets Lyrics - Amputechture - Mars Volta

Sawing off the pavement 

Repenting their past lives 

Might I be the only pain that's left to be left behind? 

Clay and pygmy footsteps 

Rusted, boil it clean 

A bullet in linguistics 

That only we can breathe 

Now, I got a prayer that'll make you theirs now 

Beneath sepulchres 

Raise your entrails as an offer 

Now, I got a prayer that'll make you theirs now 

Beneath sepulchres 

Raise your entrails as an offer 

Following with pitchforks 

In a cattle prodded theme 

Signaling the sedative 

To emaciate the queen 

Bowing in constriction 

Any time you leave 

We've slipped ourselves in angels 

In catabata leaves 

Now, I got a prayer that'll make you theirs now 

Beneath sepulchres 

Raise your entrails as an offer 

Now, I got a prayer that'll make you theirs now 

Beneath sepulchres 

Raise your entrails as an offer 

In my sign I was born 

To bring death at the footsteps of your home 

Tonight I have sown 

All the hair and crooked nails 

That you all have worn 

While your white sense of hope 

I plant the vermin 

Just who makes it so? 

How long must we fold our hands? 

Our guts are burning wheels again 

Get a match that will make you thin 

Come clean with the antidote 

After all we came undone 

A pair of sluts with hosts that fall 

One day we will pay your debt 

Our centipedes will pick the dead 

Poachers in your home 

How long must we fold our hands? 

Our guts are burning wheels again 

Get a match that will make you thin 

Come clean with the antidote 

After all we came undone 

A pair of sluts with hosts that fall 

One day we will pay your debt 

Our centipedes will pick the dead 

Follow every bottle out 

And the cruelest smut, smut you know 

It's the gash that autumn knows 

Daughters lying at the door 

Raise the body 

Breathe your clear air 

Everybody will call aloud 

Everybody calls aloud 

Everybody sing aloud 

My hands secrete a monument 

I am the reason 

For your missing child 

He might be home 

But there's no trace 

Under your pillow 

I have left a spine 

All the things we do 

When you're away 

I saw the message 

That you wrote in the sand 

Dismembered heads that come away 

The anaesthetic of your gospel sin 

Put a muzzle on the lamb 

Put a muzzle on the lamb 

Give me one page 

Give me one page 

Make it blank 

Mix it, a leak will rain 

Give me one page 

Give me one page 

Make it blank 

We shall inflict your way 

Maybe one day you'll stop and realize 

All that you serveis dead 

Give me your plate 

Give me your plate 

Make it break 

Nothing you hold is safe 

How long must we fold our hands? 

Our guts are burning wheels again 

Get a match that will make you thin 

Come clean with the antidote 

After all we came undone 

A pair of sluts with hosts that fall 

One day we will pay your debt 

Our centipedes will pick the dead 

Poachers in your home