Romantic, I suppose, if you're a dark sorcerer. |
Ha, yes, I see your ways and Mange, you dog of streets, you cad You bone-caster; Throw down For coins and to your liquor poison add Tie down that toss into your bane And thrill it like a murder in the dawn Gather the whites, bone man, for when My spell be struck, I'll take your spirit on Pull that mask from underneath my finger- Nails and wear you Tear it through your ears and tie In knots that hair Force those eyes to roll between The pews of that cathedral of ribs When I strip you, undress your Flesh for God I place two burns for every single sin Silver scars on wicked, sticky skin You tempt God to strike you down But She has peace and war to make And I'm a sinner who regrets So She set me on the path to take I've got my lot today, and felt that Fire, but left it here for you As a welcome to your smile So your teeth become the pyre Those bones you throw are stolen ones And take them back will I I will, back-stake that holy claim To drain your flesh in gashes, flay You with my fingers, and my tongue And lick and suck your crimes away, dry Your body in the sun and Bleach out every lie You dog, I'll make you pay Bone man, I'll make you die |