I watch the work of my kin bold and boyful,
Toying somewhere between love and abuse,
Calling to join them the wretched and joyful,
Shaking the wings of their terrible youths,
Freshly dissolved in some frozen devotion,
No more alone or myself could I be,
Looks like a strain to the arms that were open,
No shortage of sordid, no protest from me.
With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean,
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene,
With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean,
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene.
Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh, I
Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet,
Fresh from the fields, all feeder and fertile,
It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet.
With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean,
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene,
With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean,
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene.
In listless confusion, I'll wander the concrete,
Wonder if better now having survived.
Jarring of judgement and reasons defeat
The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth I'm alive.
With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean,
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene,
With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean,
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene.
With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean,
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene,
With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean,
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene.
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