Oh my god,
The centipede is on a hunt.
A treasure hunt,
A thousand eyes and time will stretch for you,
Seeking your innocence,
Your cellar door.
Easy now, you're getting old,
And time will eat your face.
A polaroid identity pales,
Mesmerized, you're getting slow
And time is not your race.
Your exit wound,
Your cellar door fades.
No big deal,
I'll tear my heart in two,
And live with you.
A thousand eyes with carbonated tears
Will ease my thirst.
Cellar door.
Easy now,
You're mummified.
And no one sings your pain,
Swallowed by the centipede.