The weight of our heads on our shoulders

A magnetic pull towards grace

Flesh shedding blood on its way

A boneyard of retro display

And the bruised hunks of skin

No longer moved by the wind

Lead to X marks the spot

Crow collect the toll from these time eaten frames

Mixing dust with dust while cawing new names

Kin on a tightrope hum a carpe diem tune

I've paid the murder and they brought me to you

At this time I stand before you with no regrets

I burnt this map of memories, yes

Pointing to X marks the spot

I have all I want

At X marks the spot