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Televators

- The Mars Volta (2003)

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You are listening to the song Televators by The Mars Volta, writer by The Mars Volta in album De-Loused In The Comatorium. The highest quality of audio that you can download is flac . Also, you can play quality at 32kbps, view lyrics and watch more videos related to this song.

Album: De-Loused In The Comatorium.
  1. Tira Me A Las Arañas - The Mars Volta
  2. Son Et Lumière - The Mars Volta
  3. Inertiatic ESP - The Mars Volta
  4. Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of) - The Mars Volta
  5. Drunkship Of Lanterns - The Mars Volta
  6. Eriatarka - The Mars Volta
  7. Cicatriz ESP - The Mars Volta
  8. This Apparatus Must Be Unearthed - The Mars Volta
  9. Televators - The Mars Volta
  10. Take The Veil Cerpin Taxt - The Mars Volta
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Lyrics

Just as he hit the ground
They lowered a tow that stuck in his neck to the gills
Fragments of sobriquets, riddle me this
Three half-eaten corneas who hit the aureole
Stalk the ground
Stalk the ground.

You should have seen the curse that flew right by you
Page of concrete, stain walks crutch in hobbled sway
Auto-da-fé, a capillary hint of red
Only this manupod crescent in shape has escaped.

The house half the way
Fell empty with teeth that split both his lips, mark these words
One day this chalk outline will circle this city
Was he robbed of the asphalt that cushioned his face?
A room-colored charlatan hid in a safe
Stalk the ground
Stalk the ground.

You should have seen the curse that flew right by you
Page of concrete, stain walks crutch in hobbled sway
Auto-da-fé, a capillary hint of red
Only this manupod crescent in shape has escaped.

Pull the pins (Pull the pins)
Save your grace (Save your grace)
Mark these words (Mark these words)
On his grave (On his grave)
Pull the pins (Pull the pins)
Save your grace (Save your grace)
Mark these words (Mark these words)
On his grave (On his grave)
Pull the pins (Pull the pins)
Save your grace (Save your grace)
Mark these words (Mark these words)
On his grave (On his grave)

You should have seen the curse that flew right by you
Page of concrete, stain walks crutch in hobbled sway
Auto-da-fé, a capillary hint of red
Everyone knows the last toes are always the coldest to go.