Figurative Theatre

In the shallow holes of a thousand eyes In the knee deep graves of future survivors The fleshless guests live off children of the past And their aging fingers cast the shadow of death Their razor sharp tongues invite to relax As they slip the skin on your eyelids back Invasive spectators get into the act With roses and candles, silver knives and Persona read women dance with priests on a side road Your vision perspectives are turning to stone A cabaret slide show starts shooting their loads Act one is the end and the show now begins Their razor sharp tongues invite to relax As they slip the skin on your eyelids back Invasive spectators get into the act With roses and candles, silver knives and Breath ballet prancers spin on porcelain backbones A child's muddled cry turns into hilarity Ungracious freeloaders leave their dead on a doorstep Flowers of doom all bloom in prosperity Their razor sharp tongues invite to relax As they slip the skin on your eyelids back Invasive spectators get into the act With roses and candles, silver knives and spoons With silver knives and spoons The luxuries of past days are the luxuries of our days The luxuries of past days are the luxuries of our days