Mascara
(John Frusciante)
There's a powdered sun dripping through a porthole
In a set design
Can you read your name
It's been so long since we bloomed from the inside
So where have you been since you fell off the flat edge
Of a world under nothing sky
You've been lying rye
They claim men you dance under the moonlight
Do what you think is the sum
Buts it a flesh and blood of a
Dismembered gone assembly
In four thousands of your years
Voice 1: You felt like history in your thighs
Voice 2: You get four red candles
Voice 2: On the table with your penis I arise
Voice 1: You're the one that makes me realize
Voice 1: With water flowing through to tomorrow
Voice 2: Glued to your addiction
Voice 1: Apples and cake must have been your mistake
Voice 2: Had to force you to drink your gallon of wine
Voice 2: but the smile you send in my direction
Voice 1: You little duck house
Voice 1: Makes me feel like I'm alive
Voice 1: You're hidden by your wooden legs
Voice 2: You're my kind, You're my kind
Voice 2: You always make me feel like a moon in my life
Voice 1: Staring down at the world's head, all the time
Voice 2: It always makes me feel good to know you're alive,
you're wrapping your
ties
Voice 1: Down by the whirlpool, I finally realized you must have
built
in your snake, your little duck house
Voice 1: I've been insane well the time is slow
Voice 2: I've been to a society whith you can't see yourself and
you can't
feel sunshine
Voice 2: And if you see me roaming the hillside won't you come
along? It's
a hard road to the top of yourself. You'll always be alone.
Voice 1: The Pope don't matter when the pawn is your sea, don't
you agree?
Voice 2: I like you in my love, feels good just to know I can
love
someone like you. They'll make it hard for you choose. I can
understand but
when you see creation coming you close your eyes. And To you I'm
sure it's no
surprise that I could be one of the dead. Thank god my
underwear's full of
lead without you. Without you.
Voice 1: When you're around I'm wound around your thumb. You
wanna be numb
inside the gun. All your different lights are one big fight
against the
baby inside that you've mistaken for pain.
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