if temperature fuels their desire
then shun the moon and fly to fire
and quench a most peculiar thirst
to feel the innards boil
feel the heat
feel the heat
feel the heat
you won't feel mine
brave the cold at five degrees
here's something else for all you fleas
call me pawn, or call me king
i'm off the board and i call checkmate
perhaps he was no friend of mine
but still i felt it when he died
the man was living out my dream
and blew it all away
i know not 'ere with pearls and swine
or meat and poison likeness lies
(but) no one drew a gun the day
he signed the dotted line
"i swear..."
"i don't..."
no, that part didn't come 'til later
take a dive, like falling trees
i've got some news for all you fleas
on my feet or on my knees
i'm down; can you hear me call checkmate?
i met a man who told a tale -
"and when he peered into the Well
instead of seeing life reflected
he saw nothing there at all
and travelled on, a sorry man
oblivious to Mercy's plan"
the seed falls from the sower's hand
to lie among the thorns
i wish ...
i wish ...
if only he'd opened his eyes
rattling teeth and quaking knees
well, here's the news for all you fleas
no more rhythm, no more heat
game over, man, do -i- call checkmate?
"... and i swear that i don't have a gun ..."
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