Nature red in tooth and claw I haven't seemed to keep my powder dry I always seem to hear it in your laughter The second that I fell in love with the handle of your revolver I always seem to hear it in your laughter I beg to you, a second chance with a dried white rose to 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 I burn this dictionary because that's 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 childrens mane 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 we are cattle to the prod I burn this dictionary because that's my dyslexicon You've never tasted heaven Stood the mother filled with grief In the wake of Monday mourning finds a culprit void of breath with guile If fate is your endearment Through pistil and through stem In the wake of Monday mourning And on the seventh day you will come to find that my prism is not color blind In death's mosaic spirit That's why I repent That's why I go under In the time of the sixth sun We are cattle to the prod I burn this dictionary because that's my dyslexicon
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