Testo Yellowism

Put the man on the stand

A sentence to end him
The word became cold flesh on a noose
The gallows his picture frame
The gallows

I'll talk to god about the souls I've pulled out Run my fingers through their hair

Tyrants of meaning
Monopolies of beauty
Even flowers are black at night
Tyrants of meaning
Monopolies of beauty
Even flowers are black
Black at night

I'll make my morals from the bottom up
Sweet depravity my god
My only power not in a word
My only power not in a word
A sentence to end him
The word became cold flesh on a noose
The gallows his picture frame
The gallows

I'll talk to god about the souls I've pulled out
Run my fingers through their hair

He smiled all the way down
The punch line silenced
Read his scars like a psalm
Read his scars like a psalm