dead children in ragged clothes
mingling with the smoke from a bleeding whore's hole
with all nine lives,
bein' all cat-sized,
the night stalker struck them down.
with a red right hand
and a master plan
a loverman and a killer, man
he struck them down with a red right hand
He struck them down into the sand.
The blood begins to boil
The volcanoe overflows
The blue veins are tight'ning
Ready to explode
one step closer
two steps tighter
fingernails draw blood
as fists clench in fear
like a weary spider
or a tired fighter
or a pig in the mud
or a drunk with his beer
You're caught in your own device
and nothing will suffice
You cannot escape
It seems that this is your fate
[It seems like something's missing in the meter here]
The blood begins to boil
The volcanoe overflows
The blue veins are tight'ning
Ready to explode
as your nerves collapse
you know you are trapped
the game is almost over
no more pedals on the clover
temples pulsate
the white light awaits
demons conjugate
they floss their teeth with your fate
begin to masturbate
screaming in debate
"what will we do with you?"
and coins are layed down
broken is the crown
beaten to the ground
and below, below
they bellow, bellow
and one man screams in your ear
'til you can hardly hear
and the red hot fires of hell burn
the sulfur you can smell burn
the streetlamp grows cold
but the shimmering is brighter
The blood begins to boil
The volcanoe overflows
The blue veins are tight'ning
Ready to explode
Author notes
I think this started off pretty strongly, but ending up succumbing to rock and roll cliches and rhyme schemes all too quickly. The idea for this came to last night whilst I was watching Begotten (listening sublimely to the scene where God disembowles Himself). The lines "dead children in ragged clothes/ mingling with the smoke from a bleeding whore's hole" popped into my head, because I think for some reason I was thinking of my dirty clothes and the act of masturbation, and so I fell asleep with that line in my head.
Then I woke up, went to school, etc. and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was still there. So I wrote it down, and I went from there, and like I said, I think it quickly succumbed to rock and roll cliches (It started off as a poem and then sort of turned into a song). I think that happened as soon as I introduced the AC/DC reference.
Okay, so here are my references: AC/DC, Richard Ramirez (the Night Stalker), Metallica/"Loverman"/Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds/John Milton ("Paradise Lost"), the Greek Fates (subtly), and I was thinking a little about that Raconteurs song "Blue Veins" when I wrote the part about blue veins.
Also, you gotta remember, this is meant to be a song rather than a poem.
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