Nails of the master’s reach...
No way out, no returning to innocence.
The bullied beat, the bullied beat...

Knife of the master’s heart we twist round -
Nails scrape for us... but it’s useless.
You are your own rose running, sweet one, smoker...
And they’re stale in their master’s keep.

Don’t need to keep the master beneath us...
In these vertical, breath-short windows, they are the beat-less...

And you stare straight through them.
Smash their hearts with sugar...

A life that keeps no secrets... far from the master’s weakness.