Enchanté
Dirt Poor Robins
5:36There's a door in my head Where a bird makes his bed In winter Composing a dirge In a flurry of slurs And splinters Drawn by decay The swarm finds its prey Where I brood Filling my ears With the hissing of jeers And wormwood But when my mind was almost dust Struck a flash from above But my eyes turned up The sky cracked with rain And the Satan washed out In the thunderstorm His brothers, they wept And were swept to his feet In the downpour, the downpour And oh, the door I opened no more For the vultures The sky cracked with rain And the Satan washed out In the thunderstorm His brothers, they wept And were swept to his feet In the downpour, the downpour And oh, the door I opened no more For the vultures