Lapochka - The Mars Volta

How long must I wait

How long must I wait

Til the mountains of avarice turn blue?

How long must I wait

How long must I wait

Til the moleskin I pick becomes fused?

The avulsion whims its spurs in the pinches of my earth

The dust I kick from animus shatters

Recorded on my reels of tape, the trauma stops my flow

And in your suppression tastes sulfur

Hear the children say

Tear of mended sails

How long must I wait

How long must I wait

Til the mountains of avarice turn blue?

How long must I wait

How long must I wait

Til the moleskin I pick becomes fused?

As if suddenly your avalanche

Reverses my polarity

And secretly come Sunday morning

Standing at the pulpit to an empty room

Hear the children say

Tear of mended sails

How long must I wait

How long must I wait

Til the mountains of avarice turn blue?

How long must I wait

How long must I wait

Til the moleskin I pick becomes fused?

The drowning water you drink, passed on by birth

I’m no longer willing to give you control

Water you drink, passed on by birth

I’m no longer willing to give you control