soak yourself
in the milk that is thick
with the love and the lust
of the breast that is heavy
with the weight of the sun
and the stars that are flickering out
cover your eyes
with the hands that are soft
like the yolk that is broken
and seeping out from the cleft tween your thighs
oh cover your eyes with the white of the light
and the dark in the deep of the night
chorus
maybe god cut your face
from moonstone and alabaster
but I’ll never call you beautiful X 2
and maybe he
molded your body
from nightmares and snow
but I’ll never call you beautiful X 2
because the snare round my throat
was made by your two hands
your two hands alone
bite the tongue that licks your throat
and leaves burning trails upon your skin
cough up the lace
that will shroud your face
tear the bird song from your chest
to make a home for foxglove and thistle
drown yourself in the heat
that is ripe with desire
and dull with the need in your fingers
that are curled in a fist
around and angels wrist
while your teeth do the job of a dagger
Vocals: haunted, and subversive. Guitars: splintered shrieks. Drum machine: grim, unrelenting nausea. Visceral noise, with a hook that gets stuck in in your throat. Just try spitting them out. Stranger Killings
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