Yesterday, said you’d sewn your own head
Straight into crimson carpets again,
I sprint in, find your bottles and pens, leaking
Then you said your apartment’s flooded
With licorice vines and undone spools of thread
I give in and walk two steps back in, reel me
Chorus:
When the saints leave on holiday,
Your last haunting will stay
Anthony found all your precious things,
How the hell have you no thanks to say?
Then you said all the angels have left,
After all, goodness is just weakness,
I (just) grinned but felt something wicked, creep in
It gets late, and you slip out of sense,
Tired of all my own sacraments, what’s this?
I’m not any more wanted than them, one trick
Chorus:
When the saints leave on holiday,
Your last haunting will stay
Don’t ask me, where’d you go with your wings?
I have clipped them and thrown them away
Whatever haunts you now is gonna find you out,
Ay, how, wicked things come your way
Whatever haunts you now is gonna sniff you out,
Somehow, you’re one and the same
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