Days are numbered 6-6-6
And I'll begin the countdown
By calling off the circus

somewhere in these
Cryptic scriptures
I'll find myself drifting in a sky

Full of...

Scars they cut into you

Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
These mescaline memories are morose

Your kerosene company is comatose

Our days are numbered 3-2-1

And when you bit the bullet
I held the smoking gun
Somewhere in these

Violent volumes
I'll find myself drifting in a sky
Full of...


Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue

Mayday we're going down
These mescaline memories are morose
Your kerosene company is comatose


And I would sick up half of my cold eye
To set you on your head

If I were you then I would memorize
This loose lipped lullaby
Instead of waiting

Carving out your own

Scars they cut into you

Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
Follow we went around

Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down

These mescaline memories are morose
Your kerosene company is comatose