| Skinny fingers clentched around my wrist Lead away in thoughts of a dying satanist Television static siphoning dreams From this poorly lit room I feel a strange preacher And strange reasons for living Hold the virgins mouth And give her a gasoline suicide Violently demonized Her reckless abandon Maybe her neck will snap And her eyes will roll back into her head Maybe she'll shed her pale skin for me Rinse it away with gasoline my dear The green of her eyes Surfaces from time to time The blistering sun Like the virgins avant gaze Gathering petals in those cupped hands Matrimony of strange days A strange preacher Living beneath these floor boards Spitting up blood and conspiracy The outer labia I've never seen those eyes before Never seen them shimmer that way I've never felt snowfall in my hands And I've never felt those fingers around my wrist They say that I'm affraid of you now But they couldn't be more wrong I've got blood on the telephone cord that is wrapped around my body And lacerations on my arms and chest I can give you a visage of this vacant husk And it will terrify you |
 |