Palms are fitted black and finely tuned To triggers that cause bodies that tremble But this mud looks shallow from the beach When we hide behind such ugly faces And the dark eyed woman lifts her head "Why do we hide behind such ugly faces?" Child bearing games from the streets down to the shores They're playing as waterways open in an obscene gaping gasp. "Rally all your men there is work to be done" Still we don't have the time for speaking out of place Because he won't come down He won't come down He won't come down When lengths of snakes match each silent syllable "With eyes like these" Face glistening with suspense of a scalpel blade, Clockwork calculating surgical precision. Palms are fitted black and finely tuned To stomachs that swallowed whole that bayou.