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    Song Lyrics / R / Red Hot Chili Peppers / Death Of A Martian Lyrics
    Bear paws and rascal power
    Watching us in your garage
    Big girl you ate the neighbor
    The nova is over
    Wake up and play
    Make room for Clara's bare feet
    The love of a Martian

    Tick tock and waiting for the meteor
    This clock is opening another door

    Lots of love just keep it comin'
    Making something out of nothin'
    These are the best that I
    I don't know how to say
    Losin' what I love today
    These are the best that I
    Lots of love just keep it comin'
    Making something out of nothin'
    These are the best that I
    I don't know what to say
    Look at what I lost today
    These are the things that I

    Blood flowers in the kitchen
    Signing off and winding down
    The Martian ends her mission
    The nova is over
    She caught the ball
    By the mission bell
    Chase lizards bark at donkeys
    The love of a Martian

    Let's bow our heads
    And let the trumpets blow
    Our girl is gone
    God bless her little soul

    She's got sword in case though this is not her lord in case the one
    who can't afford to face her image is restored to grace.
    Disappeared. No trace. Musky tears. Suitcase. The down turn
    brave little burncub bearcareless turnip snare rampages pitch
    color pages....down and out but not in Vegas. Disembarks
    and disengages. No loft. Sweet pink canary cages plummet pop
    dewskin fortitude for the sniffing black noses that snort and allude to dangling trinkets that mimic the dirt cough go drink
    its. It's for you. Blue battered naval town slip kisses delivered
    by duck muscles and bottlenosed grifters arrive in time to catch
    the late show. It's a beehive barrel race. A shehive stare and
    chase wasted feature who tried and failed to reach her.
    Embossed beneath a box in the closet that's lost. The kind that
    you find when you mind your own mysteries. Shiv sister to the
    quickness before it blisters into the newmorning milk blanket.
    Your ilk is funny to the turnstyle touch bunny who's bouquet set
    a course for bloom without decay. Get you broom and sweep
    the echoes of yesternights fallen freckles....away...

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