He loves to watch the burlesque girls
I was lost in the ghost infested trenches
My boots soaked in souls
Draped in flesh
What was your worst nightmare?
How does french wine taste in the valleys?
Is it bitter as the well of sorrow?
My love deep in my pocket
You are deep in your creators
The spoon I feed from
The hand who feeds you
You can attempt to wear my clothes
Imitate my hollow mind
But you shall never fill my shoes