Rollerskate Skinny Follow

Now the reins are loose and all around
The tumbleweed is tracing out your frown
The furrow's on the rise
The buried are alive
There's trouble in the seven-day dust
Now the veil of beasts have dragged you 'round
You've kissed the hands of stranglehold and found
They bruise the neck of songbirds on their way to you

We are the century's ghosts...

All ribbon fat let loose on
The tangled curse that pierced your eye and will
To carry on
All ribbon fat let loose on
The tangled curse that pierced your eye and will
To carry on

Now the ox has blown the feathers through
The oven door to make the angel's wings
The hallelujah sirens are singing to the aspiring
There's trouble in the seven-day dust
Float the bloated butchers on a string
The supper songs are deafening and green
The lucky jaws of time
Are sweetened by the rhyme

We are the century's ghosts...

All ribbon fat let loose on
The tangled curse that pierced your eye and will
To carry on
All ribbon fat let loose on
The tangled curse that pierced your eye and will
To carry on

To the weeping dogs at ankles we can say
Could you ring a bell of sense
To shake loose the seven-day dust from the plastic trees
To the weeping dogs at ankles we can say
Could you ring a bell of sense
To shake loose the seven-day dust from the plastic trees

Drum terror man, take me someplace new...