mother and father, son and daughter drown in the blood of their own dead wings. and in the midnight place, the moonlight girl sings so sweetly. ever so sweetly. why can't she tell? is she not afraid? that only the sweetest of angels rest in mother's graves. the children dressed in black and white and tears. what should become, would not and never will. so we open our hands, our mouths and our throats, so deeply in love with the poisoned death pills. i wonder how long we'll survive inhaling deep, carbon dioxide. with shakes and pains i descend the stairs a hundred times fold. a moment replaying in time forever and ever. deeper down the well, the blood would make the flowers grow, infusing it with the now, parched life. drifting through the wind i feeel my spirit scream, a crescendo of sound that frightens me even in death. the salute to a blasphemer, rotting in the harshest womb with a blade carved through my tongue. i'm hanging on words. i can't escape, but this is where i belong. yea, sing this song which only the dead can hear...
(from gashes to ashes,
from rust to dust.
from sin and sanity,
to chagrin and humanity,
til the moment all life and undeath comes to an end,
we will be together)