trinkets pale of moon

The Mars Volta

By the landfill I rest
I burn their clothing before I dig into the ground
I am janus-faced denial with vines
Youââ?¬â?¢re going to wish you hadnââ?¬â?¢t run

Clarodine is calling me
I hear the hearts of tiny beaten drums
I feigned umbrage at my bruising fists
Youââ?¬â?¢re going to wish you hadnââ?¬â?¢t run

And with these trinkets pale of moon
Senescent charms become a bludgeon of wrinkles
When I nurse your tired heart
For every time you hear this strain of lullabies collapsing
Walk towards the echo and let it hold you trembling

Their gourds are punctured easily
Amnesia fumes in little twists of silk
Induce this multi-strobe with melody
Youââ?¬â?¢re going to wish you hadnââ?¬â?¢t run

Iââ?¬â?¢ll sing you up a seedy earth
My father taught me when I was young
Youââ?¬â?¢ll wear the tattered fringe of hangnail regalia
Youââ?¬â?¢re going to wish you hadnââ?¬â?¢t run