Shame rests in the hollow circles
|
under all of our eyes.
|
You stole the living air from me
|
and payback's a bitter banshee.
|
|
At the site of my grave
|
performed their bitter biopsy
|
diva and deviant dichotomy.
|
|
Sleep came in a vision of beauty,
|
she hovered over my bed,
|
she had her holy way with me,
|
and made me cum like the clergy.
|
|
She led me through a cluttered gallery,
|
took me by the hand and she said,
|
"Come here boy, stick your head between my legs
|
and start praying."
|
|
At the site of my grave
|
(The site of my grave)
|
She had her holy way with me
|
for her benevolent biography.
|
|
The earth stood still,
|
and the air fell ill,
|
and they sky bled acid rain for days.
|
Suckled, sincere, and crystal clear
|
like the sound of failing dirt upon
|
the lid of my coffin (the lid of my coffin).
|
|
At the site of my grave (The side of my grave)
|
she had her holy way with me,
|
and hung a halo on a hard harpy.
|
|
-----------------
|
Banshee Ballet
|
| Vendetta Red |
