The Salton Hare by The Pica Beats Lyrics
[Verse 1]
And if I have to work all day
I'll find you two lovers who will take my place
And if we follow all the prayer [?]
God himself will be your concubine
And if we burn in the December sun
We'll bury our bones in the garden
They'll crush our stems and while they crush our life
They'll be taking our souls to the other side
[Verse 2]
But save your brains for the saline lake
A century gone is the [?] shape
We did our best when the bottle was full
In the freezing cold, in the burning wool
A poison puddle in the righteous hand
Becomes a requiem for a dying man
Who place his skull upon the windowsill
And the broken glass will frame an iron will
[Verse 3]
A march would be good for the Salton Hare
His friends and neighbors will all be there
To raise his coffin above the wolverines
And offer a taste for the [?] dreams
A hunter in life will be a [?] meal
The name is dead, they can hardly conceal
A joyous rebuke of the deceit-filled lake
Only [?] sand will be left to rake
[Bridge]
[?]
[?]
Everything that [?] breathe
Just take this [?]
When I am innocent of all crime and dead last
You will finally believe
There ain't nobody sicker than me
When I am swinging from the twin poles of bedlam
With the slightest of breeze
There ain't nobody coming for me
But I was taken with a sharp spear and tied back
Maybe that was the goal
To keep me under control
When my convention of all crime has come at last
And they are laid at your door
I was here waiting for more
[Outro]
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
And if I have to work all day
I'll find you two lovers who will take my place
And if we follow all the prayer [?]
God himself will be your concubine
And if we burn in the December sun
We'll bury our bones in the garden
They'll crush our stems and while they crush our life
They'll be taking our souls to the other side
[Verse 2]
But save your brains for the saline lake
A century gone is the [?] shape
We did our best when the bottle was full
In the freezing cold, in the burning wool
A poison puddle in the righteous hand
Becomes a requiem for a dying man
Who place his skull upon the windowsill
And the broken glass will frame an iron will
[Verse 3]
A march would be good for the Salton Hare
His friends and neighbors will all be there
To raise his coffin above the wolverines
And offer a taste for the [?] dreams
A hunter in life will be a [?] meal
The name is dead, they can hardly conceal
A joyous rebuke of the deceit-filled lake
Only [?] sand will be left to rake
[Bridge]
[?]
[?]
Everything that [?] breathe
Just take this [?]
When I am innocent of all crime and dead last
You will finally believe
There ain't nobody sicker than me
When I am swinging from the twin poles of bedlam
With the slightest of breeze
There ain't nobody coming for me
But I was taken with a sharp spear and tied back
Maybe that was the goal
To keep me under control
When my convention of all crime has come at last
And they are laid at your door
I was here waiting for more
[Outro]
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?
Who is waiting for more?