Horoscopic.Amputation.Honey

Braid your sins into its mane

And kick it to the county line

Shake your chains cold and loose

There's nothing safe in your stars

In and out of sleep

Even with the rise and fall

Pulled the mattress out the window

Laid out under the smoke rings

And the funnel clouds

Shake your stars, bring it down

Sad, sad complications

Buzzing like a worn out fret

We'll cut our hair and fake our death

Silver harm

Sugar hands drunken hive

Amputated years

Are growing back a new shade