Tag Archives: i always have fun with these

The Decapitated Queen of La Brea and the Boy of her Nightmares (Hail, Suicide!)

I said, we’ll drown ourselves in misery tonight
White lies, you’ve worn out all your dancing shoes this time
Just give us war-worn lipstick, blood, and purifying flame
These eyes have had too much to drink again tonight
Black skies, we’ll douse ourselves in high explosive light
Just give us war-worn, I’ve been calling you all week for my shotgun!

~*~

I love your lips, and the way they bleed

Like dying throes of cold water orchids

Drive my heart like a spike in the ground

Along with the dead, it’ll be safe and sound

.

And the moon tears the marrow of our bones

And the teeth in our necks are razor stones

So take me to a church, and get me a doctor

The coursing venom won’t last any longer

.

I wear my pills on a bloodstained sleeve

If there’s a heaven waiting, I don’t believe

You hid a revolver gun on my ancient bible

Lock and load, the scripture spells out trouble

.

And the mark of the serpent is burning me

Nazareth is damned, call me Black Mary

Carve the tattoo for the switchblade saints

Die by the cross of the apparition’s taint

.

The séance under the spotlight is holding on

Bang bang! Goes the monitor, he’s fucking gone!

Emergency alert, the red lights flash and spin

This institutional madness is fucking caving in!

.

Horror in my decayed lungs, glass in my falling nails

Banging against the coffin door rhythmic, hail, hail!

Bathe me in the arcane fires of an everlasting hell

And pray to the hurricane rain for another dry spell

.

Oh baby, the sun won’t be purified by your lipgloss

But if you tried to save us, it’s a threatening cause

Beat me fucked and correct the date on my grave

Tonight we’ll be insufferable, disgusted at the nave

.

I’m damned and broken, the saviour of the anthem

Decimating heroes with lobotomies and brain stems

This is a wedding party, bridegroom toasting cyanide

Marry to the end of the health and your death, I lied

.

And if they think you’ll be holding (they thought wrong)

Pick up the signs, make up your mind (you ain’t so gorgeous now)

You may be in exile, but don’t forget to smile (shine the light)

Drop the guns and have some fun, we’re stuck here a while (shit!)

.

So hear me out, my divine angel, dear graceless and corpse-fair

The blood’s drying in my mourning Sunday clothes I shall never wear

But the way my hands are shaking, I will never have a clean shot

So just hold it as tight as you can, and pull the trigger with all you’ve got.

~*~

Pick up the phone! Pick up the phone, fucker
I wanna see what your insides look like
(I wanna see what your insides look like)

I bet you’re not fucking pretty on the inside (not so pretty)
I wanna see what your insides look like (not so pretty baby)
I wanna see ’em (not so)…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry