This is a dead letter tale
If I could make this print talk
You made a deep mark/deep mark on me
and only saints say such things as those
so I slid under the floor
under the oak and the iron
with you under oak and iron
under the thick and under the thin
where only fire grows
I forgot to tell you several things-Ma
I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins
And I spat dead letter words
and all the breath that I own
imprinted one word in red/I read
And only saints say such things as these
(about the marks on your throat)
Under the oak and the iron
under the fat and the thick and the thin
and all of that, and a few 100 more
and only fire grow
I heard the fire grow
Alone in the