The Lexington Cure - Taxidermy (Denver Years) Lyrics

Your ghost is rotten
The flesh-like texture of your gifts
Your cuts are crooked
The Faustian nature of your bliss
A haven for lost things
This is the sound of music
But you wanted good things
I hack the wings off of sudden angels

You and me don't survive a clean desire
Took an awful shape so we sang on fire
Your virus spreads through the word of mouthes
You struggle with the math and you lie to yourself

Touch me cause I'm sick
This is a slaughterhouse barn dance
Your skin's moving too quick
Censors took the artist's hands
This science is healthy
This is a turn down service
No one likes honesty
I'm running staples through some cowardly eyelids

Blasphemy walking on a tight-rope wire
Flip the Janus Coin when you can't decide
Attempt to cauterize all the bleeding hearts
Mistakes will make you famous when the talking starts

I like my honey green like my money and the milk warmed inside your mouth