In the pulsing of the womb
|
Waits the unborn prince of evil :
|
Eyes ablaze with the light of unchained anguish seething
|
Waits and bides timeless time to rip open vibrant stillborn
|
Crying, help me to tear free like the wolf
|
In the night bays hungry.
|
Slides is tongue across grim and greening teeth
|
He moves in the night
|
With shadows,
|
Smiles as friend
|
Touch a lover too
|
He takes him the child to kiss him.
|
There's a curtain coming down over memory
|
And silent, the stage glares empty ;
|
And the blood tide, on the bitter shore,
|
Sweeps over the mind till morning.
|
I will never love again
|
I will never ever
|
Love again.
|
|
-----------------
|
Unborn Stillborn
|
| Marc Almond |
