Maybe I am cold, buried in here with the bastard I know
At the end of a rope
If I were to relent what a monster I'd be
With the mad white hair bedevilling me


And now there is Time, it's a clerk that appears
And keeps checking his watch as your solo rolls up
And the dry ice is thick
And the beam is too hot
The sentences stick
And their memories clot


The season has come. The bucks are all up
Their great incurious thrusts and the grunts and the musk
Was I buckish like this? But the cycle must run
And everything sacred be buried again


Ah, the Mad White Hair
Between the beats he's there
Scaling into here


So it takes the stage, the Mad White Hair
If I'd only seen what trouble you were
Perhaps I too become a painted thing
But my nails were never sharp when they ought to have been
And now I feel them pull and the rope goes slack
Yellowed little eyes that are looking back
What a marvel is decay when you play it right
It can give you such a crush, such an appetite


Ah, the Mad White Hair
He's cutting off the air
His kingdom silver-black


I'm on, pirouetting, for the bare auditorium
And the whole place is shaking but me
It's pining, the make-up, one grand lamentation
And it'll eat you with failure
The Mad White Hair


It's weight
You can feel it upon you
Like you're wading a river
You could choose to be glorious


I have been estranged again
Just sick enough to ripen in a spotlight's beam
A matrix of perversions and sure to burn
Sure to burn
But with such a flame
In the grand delusion