| For those who mean it,
|
| your skin will be cleaned.
|
| The scales you have shed for the family disease wash the salt away from you
|
| palms.
|
| You’re sweating it out.
|
| I beg for the taste of it,
|
| believing in him.
|
| Devil the fear of you in me,
|
| delivering the failures that made me believe there’s no life worth living,
|
| our children will leave.
|
| We’ll separate the family disease.
|
| We’ll create if we’re dead.
|
| We’ll believe.
|
| Guard them demon,
|
| let them be headed.
|
| Kill them, burn them,
|
| we’ll be left seedless men.
|
| It was diseased,
|
| I was left just to see it.
|
| The rotting flesh.
|
| My teeth were all broken from feeding.
|
| I found a bette love.
|
| As I aged, it progressed and I left.
|
| It’s not over till it’s over I said.
|
| Found myself with a cheap mask in hand.
|
| Drowned out.
|
| Birth has it’s hands reached out to welcome the sound of hell.
|
| Open your eyes child,
|
| breathe now.
|
| But don’t move your mouth.
|
| All of my heartless life I die
|
| My voice will change when I start to smile.
|
| My mind gets eaten away.
|
| Our children die.
|
| Wash the salt from your palms you’re sweating it out.
|
| I beg for the taste of it.
|
| All of our sons and our daughters are dead,
|
| and the birth that we stole,
|
| the eater grows old |