|
Her throat is soft, her lips are red |
|
Her thighs are white, her heart is dead |
|
Jezabell |
|
Red rope burns around her wrists |
|
Her blood is cold a serpent's kiss |
|
Do you love your whore? I like to hear you beg |
|
She's crouched down in the corner with her hands between her legs |
|
Jezabell |
|
Broken glass and dirty needles |
|
Soul erosion truth |
|
Electric god our superman |
|
Found dead in a telephone booth |
|
Shards of teeth ice pick abortions |
|
Orgasmic death, so warm |
|
Let's die screamin' black goat semen |
|
I can't hear you whisper "conform" |
|
Hearts will stop and brain cells pop |
|
Apocalyptic sunshine high |
|
She screams bloody murder as they chop off her fingers |
|
So this is how it feels to die |
|
But its O.K. |
|
She was screamin' bout conspiracy |
|
Talkin' bout talkin' sides |
|
I was masturbating just contemplating |
|
The cold love of suicide |
