Our days are numbered 666   And I'll begin the countdown by calling off the circus   Somewhere in these cryptic scriptures   I'll find myself drifing 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's comatose      Our days are numbered 321   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's comatose      And I would stick 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 me once around      Scars they cut into you   Blisters, rose colored hue   Mayday, we're going down   These mescaline memories are morose   Your kerosene company's comatose