Dusty pleasures, sulky landscapes always lie
No trespassing Patience drew a matchless eye
and cursed the day when Ymir drank his mother's milk
You're but a face above the ground
I think I'll poison pigeons when I'm old and bored
and market them to rats behind my garden door
Their ghosts will wait and meet me at the cemetry
and spit upon the ashes of our century
You're but a face above the ground
Why are you here, Sergeant
Well, I came to get what's mine
Love is a business and God is a business, I'd trade my life
for a place in the quicksand, a kick on the forehead, a bed of flies
the less the more embarrassing, the more the worse
Ladies and Gentlemen, the unwelcome urge
You're but a face above the ground
Why are you here, Sergeant
Well, I came to get what's mine
Why are you here, Sergeant
Well, I came to get what's mine
Why are you here, Sergeant You're but a face above the ground
Well, I came to get what's mine
Why are you here, Sergeant You're but a face above the ground
Well, I came to get what's mine
Why are you here, Sergeant You're but a face above the ground
Well, I came to get what's mine