Tag Archives: hearse

The Taste Of Bad Medicine

Drag my hand behind you
Like a chain behind a truck
Sparks over your carpet while
I chase you through the darkness
Somebody’s supposed to fall in love
But nobody even calls; somebody’s supposed to…


If I held the gun that made your insides feel worse

Tell me, is it still a blessing or have I become your curse?

Your marionette body makes me fall apart again

After I’ve taken my prescriptions and adjusted my skin


I’m too selfish to taste all these abrasive chemicals

Forming newer lies at the tip of my pale purple tongue

So won’t you take them away and shatter up these brick walls

That’s keeping my sanity in, just another emergency man


In the bedroom floor where our breaths feel like the new testament

My tell-tale heart is still writhing and clawing desperately at the cement

You buried me in black and white, but all I could see is an endless blue

Starving for some modesty like it’s some unheard modern-day virtue


So break me away, I’m responsible for this reckless self-medication

Just to sleep and dream a little longer, just to find something to hold on

Because all I hear is anguished screaming from the other side of that door

And I could only listen so much to this overdose before I could take no more


If I held all the pills that made your insides feel worse

Tell me, am I your blessing or do I have to call up a hearse?

Your puppeted agony makes me fall apart, and then

I’ll take two and pass out just so I could call you in the morning.


Tear this place apart
Until you find me hiding, silently I wait
You’ll be excited just to see me someday
Everything’s okay…

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i.) roses & bones.


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Well I’m a total wreck and almost everyday
Like the firing squad or the mess you made
Well don’t I look pretty walking down the street
In the best damn dress I own?


I smile and I hand in my defeated resignation

Send all my best wishes to the judge and jury

Cash all my checks for funeral renumeration

Just can’t be buried with debts, now can we?


So call the ambulance and black metal hearse

The gig’s over now, I spat out all of my curse

With every acerbic word I say, the maggots reverse

But steal the flask from me and keep it in your purse


‘Cause where’s the sense in going back

When you know it’s nothing but attacks?

Where’s the sense in it? Where? Where?

It’s almost as funny as the black clothes I wear


Congratulations, you just won a trip for two

Down the cemetery drive, awaiting your tomb

Your throat is parched, blowflies fill your lungs

Hold my cold hand tight darling, we’re gonna have fun


Oh I love how your navy evening gown looks

Under the moonlight, covered in filth and dirt

And one appellation is all your passion took

Now I take claim and wear your souvenir shirt


‘Cause where’s the sense in going back

I’m out with the zombies, got my own pack

Where’s the sense in it? Where? Where?

Gouge my eyeballs with a spoon and strum my hair


If the masses are stupid enough to execute me

I’ll just laugh in their livid faces, and so let it be!

I’ll have the upper hand in this sacrificial tradition

For death is my bitch and dying’s my only emotion


A last call from paradise ain’t too far away

You reek of cordite hun, so come out and play

We’ll make merry on bitter formaldehyde shots

Limb by limb falling apart, and we continue to rot


‘Cause where’s the sense in going back

If I’m wanted by every single ugly hack?

Where’s the sense in that? Where? Where?

Demise and misery is meant to be shared


So kiss me condolences with cheap thrill bouquets

It’s all the same baby, we’ll both decay anyways

Save those saline tears, ain’t you a ray of sunshine

Why grieve my loss when I’m feeling damn fine?


Fire my 21-gun salute, this is my ultimate goodbye

No more existing in this world just to suffer and lie

You will be the one to stab down the lethal injection

Just turn up the voltage in this rusty chair electrocution


Where’s the sense anyways in trying to go back?

If I’m burning in hell, then I’m on the right track

Where’s the sense in that? Tell me, fucking where?

I mean, I’d be busy pissing my pants, but I’m too dead to care!


Some might say we are made
From the sharpest things you’d say
We are young and we don’t care
Your dreams and your hopeless hair
We never wanted it to be this ways
For all our lives; do you care…?

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