...And That's Where They Found My Body

Those are the dead stars
 Those are the dead stars
 You said you'd drown in my words
 Pushed by the ink of my pen
 Those Are the dead stars
 He climbs to the highest branch of the tree
 He won't come down; you need to cut him down
 And now your shadows will know
 Why your flowers won't grow
 Those branches are denser than blood
 Shoot him, shoot him, shoot him, shoot
 Electric ink on a feather
 Cleaned by the salt of the sea
 I'll pas it on to the insects
 So they can document me
 Those are the dead stars
 He climbs to the highest branch of the tree
 He won't come down; you need to cut him down
 And now your shadows will know
 Why your flowers won't grow
 We bludgeon the cut
 To open the scab
 We burn off our roots and pretend that we're sad
 Repeat Until we believe that this is the life that we lead
 This is the life that we'll lead
 This is the light that you'll keep
 So John, get the gun
 If this is the road
 We'll have us some fun
 We'll stay up all night and say our goodbyes
 These are the dead stars that march by your eyes
 Razors listen
 We grind our teeth
 Dig our plots
 Ten feet deep
 That way no one has any reason to complain
 Caught by the spine
 We complain
 Those are the dead stars