Creeping over like lichen on a tree,
It may already be too late for me.
Is it more real than what I think is real?
Like the pip in the fruit beneath an orange peel?
I peeled open my skulp for you,
You climbed inside and never grew.

Climbed into my head,
Foot first then belly in.
You made your home,
In the comfort of my skin.
I taste the left overs of a child sized carcass.
I thought of you as shapeless darkness.

There's blood on the sun,
There's blood on the moon.
Dripping onto the earth,
Running down a mountain,
Merging with the waves in the ocean.
Drawn by an ice pike,
Dug into your head.
Listened to the carols of the needle man,
Now you got a dead heart beating in your hand.
You keep the heart in a jar,
Bury it in the corner of your closet,
But you still hear it beat,
Everytime you try to sleep.

You ate the pips of the orange you peeled,
Now you're haunted by the dead thing you killed.
When you've drowned in the blood sea,
I hope the dead give you a kiss from me.