And they picture themselves with a mask
On their face in the dark saying mass and They picture themselves telling great big lies
And they dress in a colourful way to escape From the black hole of shame
While the white sound of wind sweeps away Their crimes
Pointing their fingers at me ‘cause they think I am what they can see and ignoring
Maya’s veil
Yellow leaves fill the gutter
And the puddles fill the road
They keep sniffing and biting and chewing And swallowing what they were previously Doing and growing as big as molecular teams In the soup

And they don’t see the difference between Their desires and the abstraction of sin they End up cheating on their regretting minds
But you know if you want to be safe you just Have to start digging your grave from the Very beginning of wintertime
See how they’re looking at you maybe they Just want to sleep with you but you’ll never Let me know
‘Cause their words hurt my tummy
And your body hurts my soul
While they’re laughing and coughing and Raving and fighting each other to spy on Those ladies and being the great laughing Stock of the primordial soup

I see you down on the wheat field
The sun is dazzled by your flattery
I see you here inside this room
I lift my head
But I can’t hear you breathe