| Creeping like frost
|
| As slow as grave moss
|
| Like drowning in dry oceans of bone dust
|
| I taste the wreckage of crumbling faces
|
| I know the pale thing in the darkest of places
|
| I remember blood from the thighs of the mother
|
| As everything is eaten by another
|
| How much more must we bleed her
|
| I cut their throats while they slept
|
| I wept
|
| I peel back my skull for you
|
| Yes I do
|
| Slow desolation like a funeral procession
|
| The lovely one screams like she’s caught between stations
|
| I eat the razor, a mouthful of God’s flesh
|
| Sweating this blackness
|
| I am shitting this cold death
|
| I remember blood from the thighs of the mother
|
| As everything is eaten by another
|
| How much more must we bleed her
|
| I cut their throats while they slept
|
| I wept
|
| I peel back my skull for you
|
| Yes I do
|
| Dead Venus Blue
|
| Love is rotting on the vine
|
| Crumbling in God’s sunshine
|
| I am dying all the time
|
| Point me at the sky… sky
|
| How much more must we bleed her
|
| I cut their throats while they slept
|
| I wept
|
| I peel back my skull for you
|
| Yes I do
|
| Dead venus blue
|
| How much more must we bleed her
|
| I cut their throats while they slept
|
| I wept
|
| I peel back my skull for you
|
| Yes I do
|
| Dead venus blue
|
| I taste the wreckage of crumbling faces
|
| I know the pale thing in the darkest of places |