Nothing here to fear. I'm just sitting around being foolish when there is work to be done. Just a hang-up call. And the quiet breathing of our Persian we call Cajun on a Wednesday.
Maybe i'm the afterglow. 'cause i'm with a band you know. don't you hear the laughter on the way down. Yes i am the anchorman. dining here with son of sam.
In our hand an old, old, old thread. Trail of Blood and Amens. Greed is the gift for the sons of the songs. Hear this prayer of the wampum. This is the tie that will bind us.