Fat Of The Ram от More Constant Than The Gods

I live in a place where the horizon rises up to meet the sky And a dead lake lies fallow underneath a burning sun In the houses people dream what life would be like without a tally In the houses people dream what life would be like shadowless In the houses people dream, they dream, they dream Cities by dead lakes and a million miles of barbed wire Come to the altar and lay down your numb consecration Sorrow, desolation Sorrow, desolation There’s no shelter for me in the halls of the righteous All preserved corpses and mummified dancers They are all gentlemen They only kill by common consent Everywhere I look all I see is famine A famine of form instead of feeling Everywhere I look all I see are blanched bones And a loud starvation that drowns out the cries of the holy There’s no shelter for me in the halls of the righteous They’re too busy anointing themselves in their finest After all, they’re gentlemen They only kill by common consent They are all gentlemen They only kill by common consent She stands like the statue of a deer in the moonlight Listening to the sound of a faraway band only she can hear The wind pours down the canyons to the lakeshore And the ancient trumpets cry Mute applause and no perception No perception of these mountains upon mountains