The weight of our heads on our shoulders A magnetic pull towards grace
Flesh shedding blood on its way A bone yard of retro display
And the bruised hunks of skin No longer moved by the wind Lead to X marks the spot
Crow collect the toll From these time eaten frames Mixing dust with dust while cawing new names
Kin on a tightrope Hum a carpe diem tune I've paid the murder and they brought me to you
At this time I stand and speak of my one regret I haven't burnt this map of memories yet pointing to X marks the spot I have all I want At X Marks the spot
