Won't you rest your ruined head my weary child
|
This would twas not for thee
|
I send you now the promised land
|
Not one breath did you heave stilly born
|
|
Unto this earth sleeping so soundly in my arms
|
A slug-like trail of ochre fluids where we've danced
|
The sun is setting now I hold a modest hand in vain
|
My lung emit a sigh
|
What fiend would take these tiny eyes and show them to the dark
|
Gods just a lie
|
|
Never born into this den of sin
|
That which erodes the most tender of things
|
After the eve have fallen
|
The lights are sinking low
|
Shadows would hide that life
|
In him could never grow
|
|
A hollow gaze peers from the cradle black
|
Imagining his shining eyes just sockets staring back
|
Witness the baptism skeletal the world would shun
|
Reject the purest form of love
|
A mother to her son
|
|
I proceed to nurse him
|
I could almost smile
|
I entertain the notion
|
That he did live this while
|
But he's dead to this world
|
Carved out just like my heart
|
Soaked up and washed so lovingly
|
Cherished son unconditionally
|
|
In our secret world alone
|
Situation delicate crudely frowned upon
|
In our sacred love undone
|
|
Never born into this den of sin
|
That which erodes the most tender of things
|
After the eve has fallen
|
The lights are sinking low
|
Shadows would hide that life
|
In him could never grow
|
|
A hollow gaze peers from the cradle black
|
Imagining his shining eyes just sockets staring back
|
Witness the baptism skeletal the world would shun
|
Reject the purest form of love
|
A mother to her putrid rotting son
|
|
-----------------
|
That Which Erodes The Most Tender
|
The Black Dahlia Murder |