when candles and incense are not enough
|
to dispel the death i die every day
|
when an alter cloth over my wounds
|
cannot stop the bleeding
|
nor still my pain
|
|
|
. . . i'd scale razors' sharpest light
|
to see how it came to be this way
|
that the sinking in my head becomes
|
the death i die. . .
|
|
when figurines twinkle as they crash to the floor
|
and the diamonds crumble when there are no more
|
when my body lingers at the killing site
|
gather the sharpest stones for the chosen one
|
|
. . . i'd gather razors of sharpest light
|
to see how it came to be this way
|
that the sinking in my head becomes
|
the death i die. . .
|
|
fire and wine and burning eyes
|
bring me to this crazy fear
|
fire and wine and burning lies
|
live the master of my tears
|
|
for when the hour has broken us
|
we shall wonder - wonder who it was
|
and how it came to be this way
|
the death i die every fucking day
|
|
and when the demons of my mind
|
come to claw for table scraps tonight
|
i shall kill them one by one
|
and feed their corpses to the sun
|
|
-----------------
|
how it came to be this way
|
Autumn |