I was the first match [bad word] at the first cremation, you are my shallow grave, I'll tend you as a ton
If you're the casket door that's being slammed upon me, I'll be a plague cross painted on your naked body
Well summer sighed and summoned up hail. Dirty in dish rack drips the holy grail
May be heartslob but I want 'em to know, cut and shut us like a portmanteau 
We sit around jus' spitballin', all the witches cackle round my cauldron
Recognise the lies from my poker tongue (is it [bad word] ..?)

They say you and me are tautology
What grows from the seeds, 
can you quite believe? 
through [bad word] the weeds, 
Long time listener, first time caller, 
no need to remind me
What death leaves behind me

Why must I lie awake, from dusk until the morning, through fear of bein' impaled upon errant mattress spring?
Within a waking dream I finally made my heel turn, lived life as Super 8 when you were promised Hilton
Propose me as a pardon for sins, led on barbecue I'm burnt offerings
I proof-read the Book of Job for the Lord: edit one, League Cup 2004
We, delicate as a filigree, cleared a place for us in the chicory
Colosseum blood will dry in the sun (is it [bad word] ..?)

We tread it carefully, we feel around in kid-gloves
What death is leaving behind, death leaves behind love
We will flower again, I have surely seen it
WE WILL FLOWER AGAIN