Interpret:

Mars Volta, The

Album:

Amputechture

Don't you pretend
That I'm not alive
My bones never ache
Unless she's nearby
Where is your face
In a safe of dead tongues
I can see your reflection
In your totem first born
I suspect
You've been carrying a pack of wolves
I regret
Not killing you while I had the chance


Maybe I will always haunt you
Mark the somnolence with truth
Better hang your dead palace
Than have a living home to lose
In the river ganges God damns my name


Don't let these hands 
Sharpen your eyes
A rasp of tails