Monte albán

Old voices whisper ''If you die in combat
then your soul will return as butterflies''
Buried their children in clay pots, priestesses entranced
To comune with with the wisdom of the ones who'd passes through

All your walls are painted and I'm faint before a well of fire
All your calls begin to draw me in but your heart's barbed wire
All my senses heightened by the fight in you, the boy that dived
Your succulent feast will be in pieces while the hungry buy

The king of the gods went to the underworld
Found the ancient men a women, mixed his blood with their's
When he returned he took the form of giants with fire
Brilliance crumbles in stale museums with an icecream smell

All your walls are painted and I'm faint before a well of fire
All your calls begin to draw me in but your heart's barbed wire
All my senses heightened by the fight in you, the boy that dived
Your succulent feast will be in pieces while the hungry buy