Wax Cylinder Sonata Dirt Poor Robins (Ft. Kate DeGraide)

[Verse 1]
Maybe these paperbacks are cages
With secrets bound beneath the pages
Between the lines, the truth lies in the spaces
The gentle winding of the clock and
Automatons have started walkin'
Now from beyond, a metal army marches on

[Pre-Chorus]
A phoenix smolders in my head
What if the dead are never truly dead?

[Chorus]
A camera for her eyes
This timepiece for her mind
These heirlooms forsaken
Reclaimed and made into my grand device
With a wax cylinder sonata for a voice

[Post-Chorus]
Voice
Voice
Voice
Voice

[Bridge]
Illuminate my way with bricks of yellow
A painted road to follow fallen hallows
And through the forest haunted
I sojourn forward dauntless
For I know
I've no place like a home