Horoscopic Amputation Honey

braid your sins into its mane and kick it to the county line shake your chains cold and loose there's nothing safe in your stars in and out of sleep even with the rise and fall pulled the mattress out the window laid out under the smoke rings and the funnel clouds shake your stars bring it down sad sad complications buzzing like a worn out fret we'll cut our hair and fake our death silver harm sugar hands drunken hive amputated years are growing back a new shade