This isn’t what we talked of, up late, phone chord all looped for the hangman.
The space between your ring and you could always hear what that man sang.
I’ll dress you up in horrid cloth, you’ll dress me up in leather.
We’ll look each other up and down, hypocrisy tumbling after…

You’ll look in the mirror, half-decomposed, with a shadow of me on your shoulder.
You’ll raise your claw, laugh at it all, for blame spreads as you grow older.
The gold on your head is all well and good. It’s the pride of which you are master.
Unlike me, this glow will not let you down, hypocrisy tumbling after…

Fill me up with something dark, with something siren red.
I want you to give me the word to burst, pull the stopper, then spread.
I can’t decide what I want from you. The ceiling is spiraling faster.
Apparently I was never enough, hypocrisy tumbling after…