He was the thorn in the world.

He was formed of unborn art

that called him and pulled him along this needled path.

While we breathe it in the flame is dancing on the foil.

Those gucci glasses were pummeled beneath knuckles in the gravel to dematerialize in the thorns of the spine of the world. We dematerialize.

You are the thorn in the spine of the world.

He says they sing so perfect in the fall, locked in this desert in a suit that's made of snow. All along they'd been hiding in that hole,

Now they sing so perfect in the fall.

We stumbled out into the winter's glow, and evening brings a beast that moans we dematerialize.

We were disheveled and bound and thrown onto a stage where reckless sounds of string coil around insubordinate hair. Gathered up curses and locked them into a brass and found himself running naked in the field of burning leaves.

You were the thorn in the spine of the world.

They sing so perfect in the fall, locked in this desert in a suit that's made of snow. All along they'd been hiding in that hole,

Now they sing so perfect in the fall.