VERSE
They came marchin down the street in robes,
In the spirit of Spanish Inquisition
Guitars and trombones,
Mechanical monkeys make good musicians

Streets urchins, the smugglers and dingos,
Dead languages and living man lingos
Put the relics of the saint in a glass box and march him around the block

PRE-CHORUS
Hangin on the words of a madman,
Islands in the abyss,
No use for the poet,
When the hopeless seek no bliss

VERSE 2
Mason jars of petroleum,
You know those kids don't play,
And should you ever get ahold of them,
I'll tell you exactly what they say:
"Time we told you son about the family curse"
And when they opened up the diary
To gain an explanation,
They find only terminal verse

PRE-CHORUS
Hangin on the words of a madman,
Islands in the abyss,
No use for the poet,
When the hopeless seek no bliss

CHORUS
X-ray visions,
Eye in the sky,
The naked being led by the blind
So Bottoms up, Socrates
Hemloc straight up
Goes down easy

PRE-CHORUS
Hangin on the words of a madman,
Islands in the abyss,
No use for the poet,
When the hopeless seek no bliss

Altered CHORUS
X-ray visions,
Eye in the sky,
The naked being led by the blind
So Bottoms up, Socrates
Hemlock tastes like ripple wine

CHORUS
X-ray visions,
Eye in the sky,
The naked being led by the blind
So Bottoms up, Socrates
Hemlock straight up
Goes down easy