I bore no resemblance of the past.
I had no more visions of the future.
My life sewn back together, bone and suture.
I regret not one kiss from the first to the last.
Karl von Mecklenburg
thread my heart through a needle
the size of your pretty words and
turn it around and double knot it;
i see it now: my life in an eye,
ah, sew it up, sew it up,
i don’t want to see this anymore.
oh love, i'm absolutely hopeless
He refuses to offer a piece of his heart
'Cause he can't trust it'll be kept unbroken
He keeps his feelings belted smart
Chances for new emotions left untouched and unspoken
He offers his rut, fresh and mastered
Decides it's the best and most he wants for now
The heart that's growing a case on him is being plastered
At the mere longing to exchange a loyalty vow
There is hope he will change and offer more
With no guarantee of his final choice for a future;
There is hope, at the depth of a bruised heart still sore
Longing to hold him close upon his merciful role as a suture.
Stepping on the corpses of all you've known
trekking through the field of bones
the sirens sing, green angels with broken wings
like a desolate future, in need of suture
I see a patina on everything, rustic brains
you can always find some sign of life
for there is always life within something
rose still exist among the filth and ****
there will always be beauty in the lies
and in the truths that flow through our mouths
Soul like fodder; laid on the slab
Bleach white skulls beneath ****** sands
Vivisection, most everyday
Cut me open-- don't dare sedate
Tear me apart like a shotgun surgeon
Suture me slowly and keep the wounds open
Sterilize, anesthetize, but never empathize
Poke, ****, and pain me until I die
Asking of this operation I'm going under:
"Will my sweet mortician be my biggest blunder?"
— The End —