Žodžiai dainai: Twelve Tribes. Instruments. Kite Eating Tree.

Down sped the long sleep; across from me lay the drag, the itch and the grace i had left the night before. if only the pillows could speak, would they mention me in yellow, piss-stained, bleeding gleam? A hung sloth of paradise or pendulum. Once the day is over as I, the drag will be found in the lost night [and insanity arrives, I can't be called back] otherwise i am left in drifting sands without the air a whole man, half-eaten heart. And as it goes, this weighted leaf the itch will be found in time sinking, longing my kite eating tree this beloved world i disown 'impulse arrested spills over and the floods are feeling, the floods are passion, the floods are even madness' fondling time, seeing into the drop it sings to me, and slowly falls apart I slide away into the open wind. I slide spilling fractions of family over the floor it sings call me what you will your master, your whore. Call me brother, color me red and the sun stone grey. When I'm standing by your side tell me your story friend impulse arrested spills over the floods are madness