Текст песни the bible and the breathalyzer (The Mars Volta) с переводом

Among the tattered dwelling of the new found home, in the furthest cramped

corner sat the shell of a goat head strangled in copper wire, scraped of its

insides, unwashed behind the ears, fueling the crooked names spoken by leeches

To a thinning cowlick’s fat his crippled limp, dragging along the hump of the

floor. Sobbing from the smacking mouth of the demagogue wells, making

wisecracks, spilling from the corners with their pink flinches, second glancing

their every move

It ate pickled nose cartilage that fell from the ceilings, a pork skin drizzle

unnerving the humans, while it read aloud from its favorite books,

in glossolalia slang and haruspex truths, following a slow and patient wait,

a mocking their hair as it was glued to their upper lip combover

Under the wall, the ships smeared by faithfully talking the magnum fanatics and

their bottles of scalp soup

They cooked up a tardis smudge on their eyes, a lunar antidote that powdered

underneath the oncoming pestilence of their idling fingers

It wrote them a seance, penetrated their every dependent desire

It hacked off the central headpiece to the collective

It wrote them a message in the marrow of the knife, with the extension of

Baphomet* transfusion

Glued to the animals, perversions of their former selves, patiently biting

their fingernails looking for a clue

As soon as it failed to appear, the faithful fell under the spell of public

execution

It had been an eternity filled with useless ritual, and all for nothing,

promising salvation, but only flags came swarming around for a better taste

What was left were the scraps, dressed in animal skin, defiled servants holding

their breath, fatherless culprits blaming their kin, waiting for an answer

They thought a day would come, or a giraffe might choke in midair squeal,

some sort of indication

Only it was the hands of the followers that had left their markings in neatly

packed dunes filled with the decapitated remains, found sealed in sand

It only stained the conscious for a brief moment, then came disgust

Realizing there was nothing to it, people began collapsing in collective states

of drought

Palm-size vents heating in the chest, cluttering the graph, a bladder full of

remains

Nothing became of them because nothing was the reason, an apathetic display

dripping into vats of obesity

The feud had been sucking teeth for some time now, but the only baggage that

paraded about was the curtain epidermis unfolded in an inebriated suit

The fit came suffocating, feathering the boa-constricted paleness, frostbitten,

and shovel-faced

It came before them in utter confidence, flares of pink owls in the nest of

albino eyelids blinking out chemical obscurities to the blind

It bloomed into a hemorrhaged contraption that impopulated the disenchanted,

one by one

All the churches were converted into quarantine facilities, inside them grew

bacterial stubble compacted by larvae, contracting and teething

A newborn litter degradively sufficient, running from the horse collarbone,

amongst the murmuring femurs whimpering in fractures

«Are you the Polaroid shot you thought you were?», it said with a coy smirk

With the position now vacant, it waltzed right in and made itself at home

Seduced by the empty nominations at the altar of broken ballot boxes,

closer to that nothingness that everyone seemed to embrace

As it pissed all over them, the sigh of relief steamed off the soaking

depressants, an impending sleep was on its way

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