Figurative Theatre

In the shallow holes of a thousand eyes

In the knee deep graves of future survivors

The fleshless guests live off children of the past

And their aging fingers cast the shadow of death

Their razor sharp tongues invite to relax

As they slip the skin on your eyelids back

Invasive spectators get into the act

With roses and candles, silver knives and

Persona read women dance with priests on a side road

Your vision perspectives are turning to stone

A cabaret slide show starts shooting their loads

Act one is the end and the show now begins

Their razor sharp tongues invite to relax

As they slip the skin on your eyelids back

Invasive spectators get into the act

With roses and candles, silver knives and

Breath ballet prancers spin on porcelain backbones

A child's muddled cry turns into hilarity

Ungracious freeloaders leave their dead on a doorstep

Flowers of doom all bloom in prosperity

Their razor sharp tongues invite to relax

As they slip the skin on your eyelids back

Invasive spectators get into the act

With roses and candles, silver knives and spoons

With silver knives and spoons

The luxuries of past days are the luxuries of our days

The luxuries of past days are the luxuries of our days