brush my lips with more reds
make my smile look alive
let the youth touch my hand
allow the colors to dry

bury my casket along with my sins
and the poems i can never sing
get the black book and the priest
let the funeral of an art begin

brew the finest lies you got
the vengeance of the word
a ghost will haunt your dreams
a ghost that bears your name

the sick truth of a man
sought refuge to a face
a better death; to be betrayed
than drown in yellow paint