The Mars Volta-The Widow

He's got fasting black lungs
Made of clove splintered shardes
They're the kind that will talk
Through a weezing of coughs

And I hear him every night
In every pore
And every time he just makes me warm

And I hear him every night
In every pore
Freeze without an answer
Free from all the shame
Must I hide?
Cause I'll never
Never sleep alone

Look at how they flock to him
From an isle of open sores
He knows that the taste is such
Such to die for