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Song:Soul Auctioneer
Album:The Contino SessionsGenres:misc
Year:1999 Length:360 sec

Lyrics:

The lynch mob be half from the infinite hole
As judged in a size it's a executioner goes
To crucify Venus in cinemascope
The narcotic preachers are happy
High priest the mesmorous, the soul auctioneer
Sells scorpion tightropes while suffering on fear
His necropolis uses the scourge of the queer
He is married to the truth incinerator

There are hands in my pockets pulling at my spine
Eggs bearing insects hatching in my mind
The stones in my shoes get sharper all the time
In the soft sick underbelly, in the carcass of these times

I fly in my head, leave terminal narcosis
A poisoned mind will make you blind beware of Trojan horses
A dead head, a blunt needle,
You've broken your wings, you've lost your demon
Drop the bomb, spread the virus
Marxist priests teach defiance chase through violence

There are hands in my pockets pulling at my spine
Eggs bearing insects hatching in my mind
The stones in my shoes get sharper all the time
In the soft sick underbelly, in the carcass of these times

You've broken your wings, you've lost your demon
Broken your wings, you've lost your demon
Broken your wings, you've lost your demon
Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon
You've broken your wings, you've lost your demon
Broken your wings, you've lost your demon
Broken your wings, you've lost your demon
Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon




 

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