Post by Laura on Oct 6, 2005 18:28:09 GMT -6
p/n: I'm wondering if I should post "Dirty Preachers pt.2" because it seemed to stir up conversation. Ah well. For now, here's Love Me. It seems unfinished but I'll wait until I hear thoughts.
Love Me
i smell the sweet
the sweetness of some wh*re's nectar
rushing out of her veins like broken levers
and i'm level
crunching numbers like you crunch your weight
into small little cupcakes
good time for a breakfast
ask me why i have a bloody finger
i used a sewing needle, they come in packs
just like my cigarettes
local stores have taxes
just like your filthy new dresses
hand made by unwealthy children
they sew their mouths shut so they won't speak
when told they're not going to get paid
i'm fifteen feet away from sanity
because a building can cure all the pain
an institution built by man
and run by men except the nurses
who wear their pretty white dresses with pink frills
i used to dress up like that
when i was shoving bodies into a trunk
fifteen miles from the station
who can blame the bloody preacher
for giving into his sins
and singing praises that make no sense
just like my heritage
that splits and tears in every corner
i've severed all those ties
because all those f**kers deserve to die
so i'll kill them
and bury them in the backyard
hope some tree will form
look at the roots of this disaster
holding close a crooked knife
and shallow minds they connect
in these ways i'll never know
and i'll water it every day
pleading to them to forgive
then turn my eyes upside down and burn my lips
"you should have loved me"
Love Me
i smell the sweet
the sweetness of some wh*re's nectar
rushing out of her veins like broken levers
and i'm level
crunching numbers like you crunch your weight
into small little cupcakes
good time for a breakfast
ask me why i have a bloody finger
i used a sewing needle, they come in packs
just like my cigarettes
local stores have taxes
just like your filthy new dresses
hand made by unwealthy children
they sew their mouths shut so they won't speak
when told they're not going to get paid
i'm fifteen feet away from sanity
because a building can cure all the pain
an institution built by man
and run by men except the nurses
who wear their pretty white dresses with pink frills
i used to dress up like that
when i was shoving bodies into a trunk
fifteen miles from the station
who can blame the bloody preacher
for giving into his sins
and singing praises that make no sense
just like my heritage
that splits and tears in every corner
i've severed all those ties
because all those f**kers deserve to die
so i'll kill them
and bury them in the backyard
hope some tree will form
look at the roots of this disaster
holding close a crooked knife
and shallow minds they connect
in these ways i'll never know
and i'll water it every day
pleading to them to forgive
then turn my eyes upside down and burn my lips
"you should have loved me"