The Nazarite Lyrics

Wasn't nothing to ask, and wasn't nothing to be told/

I've been burdened with cracks, in everything that I know/

And when it's time to relax, I feel a scratch in my throat/

That's telling me to go back to see if I have some hope/

Run tell that, that the functions exposed/

I've been loved for that, but I've been hated by most/

And when the blood comes back, to where it naturally flows/

I'll bite through tongue and through tacks, to prove that I have a soul/

Marigold petals always littering my brain/

I've been trained to be dim but I was born to be aflame/

Awake in the most honest way I possibly can be/

Should I kiss the fucking ground if the sky can't stand me?/

You ask what I can be, but not what I am/

Is it fortune leaking through all of the cracks in my hand?/

Is it torture being used or is it all sort of a plan?/

Broken toy askew for loose screws in demand/

Maybe we can fix this, maybe can fight/

Maybe we can fuck and add a notch onto our lives/

Maybe we can fold as far as seraphim go/

Never even show our faces in that heroin glow/

Apparently though, the air is filled with sarin and smoke/

So no kiss that we could share could be a fair one in hopes/

To carry our spokes, to linger off with nary a coat/

Couldn't believe it when we let all of the air out the floats/

It's like the game, is called, the rain, it falls/

Same as it's always been, white plain walls/

The game, is called, the rain, it falls/

Same as it's always been, white plain walls/

March to the beat of the drum in your heart/

In stark contrast to the rhythm from the start/

Headlong we part, and we'll meet again in roses/

Separate the art from the focus/

I put the needle to the record just to make some serotonin/

Put my head inside machines to try to figure out what's broken/

Put the dead in picture frames and leave them right out in the open/

Put the barrel to my dome, no home, left smoking/

Needle to the record just to make some serotonin/

Put my head inside machines to try to figure out what's broken/

Put the dead in picture frames and leave them right out in the open/

Put the barrel to my dome, no home, left smoking/