Days are numbered 6-6-6 And I'll begin the countdown By calling off the circus somewhere in these Cryptic scriptures I'll find myself drifting in a sky Full of... Scars they cut into you Blisters rose colored hue Mayday we're going down These mescaline memories are morose Your kerosene company is comatose Our days are numbered 3-2-1 And when you bit the bullet I held the smoking gun Somewhere in these Violent volumes I'll find myself drifting in a sky Full of... Scars they cut into you Blisters rose colored hue Mayday we're going down These mescaline memories are morose Your kerosene company is comatose And I would sick up half of my cold eye To set you on your head If I were you then I would memorize This loose lipped lullaby Instead of waiting Carving out your own Scars they cut into you Blisters rose colored hue Mayday we're going down Follow we went around Scars they cut into you Blisters rose colored hue Mayday we're going down These mescaline memories are morose Your kerosene company is comatose -Vendetta Red-