Choir Of Dogs

I don't wanna rehearse with the Choir of Dogs
I have no words to encourage, I don't admire the gods
That have us fighting over scraps in line
And breeding in the trash and biting apples
Slightly flecked with Eden's ash

So, if the domesticator supplies the marrow of good behaviour
Then how do you keep parasites of all kinds
Out of the private paradise that you have in mind

If I refuse the blessed fruit that tamed the Choir of Dogs
Who's bruised flesh will substitute
For the maimed and tired gods
That have us fighting over scraps in line
And breeding in the trash and biting apples
Slightly flecked with Eden's ash

So if the domesticator supplies the marrow of such good behaviour
Then how do you keep parasites of all kinds
Out of the private paradise that you have in mind
What you have in mind

They wanna slice off the tongue that secretes a fearless melody
While they're preaching to the heroes that they'll likely never see
They wanna slice of the tongue that secretes a fearless melody
Well, they're preaching to the heroes that they'll never see



Credits
Writer(s): Kait Rainwood, Kaitlin Rybacki
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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