| We rise with the sun in the underworld
|
| We suffer from a graveless name
|
| We prise wide lids
|
| And wounds with lips curled
|
| Over teeth that have tasted shame
|
| Cemetery and sundown
|
| Against the flora of nightfall
|
| We gather like the fauna of war
|
| To cure Aurora so spiteful
|
| With her stake in the coming of dawn
|
| To conjure forth the past
|
| Those heady nights of pain resplendent
|
| In the service of the Goddess of Death
|
| When her sheets ran royalty red
|
| Moon lengthen or crypt-kept silhouettes
|
| Shadows dance, eyes flicker in descent
|
| Unveil the greed, our needs are bitter, spent
|
| On upturned mouths and haunts of wickedness
|
| We walk this Eden, a secret
|
| Faces hidden under Leonine pride
|
| In dusk’s embrace
|
| We find it hard to keep it When blood and lust and waking worlds collide
|
| Too long have we skulked like drifters
|
| In the cities of the neon sun
|
| Vagabond dogs and graveyard shifters
|
| Mona Lisas where the paint has run
|
| I miss our glorious past
|
| Our nightly flights on fear dependent
|
| Like phantoms in the eaves for Miss Christine
|
| When the song bird broke her neck
|
| Wolves howl their fogbound serenades
|
| Churches arch their backs with balustrades
|
| Praise be to the shedding of masquerades
|
| When we hunt these vestal vermin unafraid
|
| Of the covenant made…
|
| Draw the blinds on the floors of raw meat
|
| There is murder in the thirst
|
| Rich red vascular tapestries
|
| Hung in gilded frames of nuns asleep
|
| In dreams where themes of bestiality
|
| Are a blessing on their Sunday sheep
|
| Sermons hang a black gown
|
| Over cemetery and sundown
|
| Now the clock is harrying midnight
|
| And the ghost of yet-to-come
|
| Will she show rewrites of dark delight
|
| Or the sewers we’ve overrun?
|
| I see a winter palace
|
| Cut diamonds at a porcelain neck
|
| When Swan Lake crushed poor sanity’s spirit
|
| As I threw her to it bled
|
| We rise with the sun in the underworld
|
| We suffer from a graveless name
|
| We prise wide lids
|
| And wounds with lips curled
|
| Over teeth that have tasted shame
|
| We walk this Eden, a secret
|
| Faces hidden under Leonine pride
|
| In dusk’s embrace
|
| We find it hard to keep it When blood and lust and waking worlds collide |