Temple

Yellow is the sign, he declines to walk through. Devils live in his mind, he decides he might tango with the dead tonight. If he fights, the war will rage, the war will break his little cage. Gymnastics like an acrobat, now he's flying without knowing how to use the wings he's grown. Oh, so old, so cold in his little tavern. So hold on to this cowardice crimson rose, the lowest of the low.