braid your sins into its mane   and kick it to the county line   shake your chains cold and loose   there's nothing safe in your stars   in and out of sleep even with the rise and fall   pulled the mattress out the window   laid out under the smoke rings   and the funnel clouds   shake your stars bring it down   sad sad complications   buzzing like a worn out fret   we'll cut our hair and fake our death      silver harm sugar hands drunken hive   amputated years are growing back a new shade