You sai' you li' chem'cals, righ'?

He's got a kiss that tastes like drinking menthol, sipping acid
down the throat of a white-bellied whore.
My vice screams in the form of nails crawling down tiled
bathroom walls, leaving trails of blood in the place of plaster.
It's a game of hearts set on fire, while the flames spread to specks
of dirt in the floor that I just can't seem to reach.

Maybe the butterfly doesn't pay enough attention to the electriclight,
but her eyes will scar in a vision... her eyes will scar under a socket of their masks.
We shall fall to the... let me take you away to a ... video-captive shelter of your failsafe
scrapes, a place for you to lie and send the tragedy up your spine so you can die
for everyone to see.

The way it takes is always wrong, but you won't leave this place,
you scratch out my wounds,
rolling out and breathing in the air that's shattering your lungs.

The sky's too dark to scream, where no will
help me,
help me,
I know a place, let me take you away...
to a video-capture of your failsafe scrapes.

Witness the birth of a sleep that leads to the
suicidal dreams and defecating birds that don't
know how to sing to the tune of your faulty veins.

We fall and turn to the sound of nothing in the bird's-eye view
of imperfections and our own worthless imaginations.  It's a mess
of industrial foil slants and broken gauges, rusting and thrown in flakes
to the blood-stained walls, screaming your name while you vomit on the
floor you fucked your heart on the day before yesterday before tomorrow
before now before today.

This is the way it sounds when it all falls apart at the corner of the page;
your story's nothing more than a novel of fluff and a damsel's cancerous plague.

I'll tell you a story that will send your fingers flying to your mouth,
to scratch out the inside of your throat and send blood flying across
your esophagus;
I'll scream you a tale that will cause you to tear your insides apart.

You're dead and there's no place for you to be but in my fucking dreams.

So let me guilt my way through my nightmares and leisurely curl up into a ball
and tear my vocal chords apart while I scream your name and
fail to bring you back.

Spit me out,
spit me back into something worth believing in.
Let me sink into those angel wings and find something
to see in me.

You're dead and buried and
I've got what I've got coming to me--
It's a bitter pill
and a cheap sale
and I'll die before I'll let it get away,

I'll die anyway.