Your telling eloquent plectrum
Picking out a hex of the six when it's your turn
If Lucifer may give a fuck
I guess you'd rather be unsung
Sitting in a lawn chair, you're watching the earth burn
Unto posterity nonesuch
The four horsemen riding
Behind the eight-ball, now
They call you pariah
So let me be damned
His useful best has yet to come
Settling the bursts from the whispering under
Pretend your dank inner sanctum
The gentle day breaking begun
Trip into the pay-dirt forgotten was our turf
From humid ruins the opus
The four horsemen riding
Behind the eight-ball now
They call you pariah
You shallow stab me through the second scar of crescent shape
I led the awe attack of shadow apathetic plague
I bet it all on black, I bet it all on black, I bet it all on black...
Black...black...black...
The four horsemen rotting
Behind the eight-ball now
They call me pariah
credits
from No Exit,
released June 4, 2018
Eric Gordon: Lyrics and Vocals
Max Cerami: Guitars
Alex Noelke: Bass and Synth
Nick Wagner: Drums and Percussion
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