Lyrics of Math won't miss you

The weapon is not your out all
Loaded and wanting to
Unload ammunition, shotgun definition of you
Passing out holes unaccidental
Easier sold than set upon
With a fever your sense of direction saturates into the parade

Tightrope and so on the wanting edge
Get rid of some excess excess red
And your dead batteries

Scrub all the carpets
Turn over mattress
Burn all your outfits
Draw drape the windows
No more adults no more show
No more arrest
No more business go home no more
Hands like traffic static
Like they ripped your lips off and you can't say a word

Tightrope and so on the wanting edge
Get rid of some excess excess red
And your dead batteries

Shoving into
Shadows into
Being the spy
Blowing smoke on the flowers
They take your spine every time

When it's all blown over wil you be the revolver and count your cards
Lost all you had when you started doing math on your arms