The Mars Volta - Vermicide

There with them is errorwe are sacrosancta taunting of ravens to youmy swarms have fit the holstermy faith burnt every houselike no other mangeri am emptier with doubtbare themsevensthree to a pallmarks thevenomlush and terminalwhen i became your larvaeyou fed me from your platesnow my slouch is nervoussinking by the facewrinkled by this gravelskinless trace of timewear your cobwebs proudlyin your cheap and brittle sightmy glands emit this carnagethese pews bend back your kneesthat uniform it wears youwhen the ultimatum pleadsbare themsevensthree to a pallmarks thevenomlush and terminalthat cesspool it becomes youjust north of the eyebrowssquat the hole for a puckerwhen the rations go blondethe salted stitch is patientwaiting to engulfthere is plasma from this hoaxpretending to be usembalming all the fluids i must i musti prefer to burn it i must i must