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The Mars Volta
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Dyslexicion
Mars Volta
The second that I fell in love
with the handle of your revolver
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
I begged to you a second chance
a dried white rose from Bethlehem
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
Am I the valency that you deny?
In the time of the sixth sun
we are cattle to the prod
and I burn this dictionary
because its my dyslexicon
When I collapse and bury all the things unconsciously I hear
cackling in chloroform this spectre will ensnare
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
A braided strand from children's manes
acquired with impunity
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
The things you say to me
are deaf in tongue
I always seem to hear it in your laughter
Am I the valency that you deny?
In the time of the sixth sun
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we are cattle to the prod
and I burn this dictionary
because its my dyslexicon
Have you ever tasted heaven
stood the mother filled with grief
in the wake of Monday mourning
finds the seventh day
If fate is your endearment
through pistil and through stem
in the wake of Monday mourning
finds the seventh day
And on the seventh day
you will come to find
my prism is not colorblind
in death's mosaic spirit
finds the seventh day
That's why I repent
that's why I go under
that's why I repent for the night
In the time of the sixth sun
we are cattle to the prod
and I burn this dictionary
because its my dyslexicon
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