deepundergroundpoetry.com

DEATHBED NECROPHETAMINE

If you want to be the devil
You have to play with fire
Don�t be afraid of getting burned
When the times seem so dire
Taste poison on your lover�s lips
As they cast you from their arms - NO!
There can be no reconcile
As you writhe with the worms

Cloak me in the shadow of your blasphemy
Dead or alive, just be my necrophetamine
You�re infernally lovely among sarcophagidae

Feasting on the flesh
That wants to eat you too

I�m so cold in this grave you left wide open
And so lost in these words of broken omens
I feel so used like a dirty little whore
Slaved for the meat of the matter wanting more

If you want to play the savior
You have to practice your lies
And you sound good enough to me
There�s no truth behind your eyes
Bedside roses start to wither
Contaminated with shit - GOD!
Damn shut your fucking mouth
Or I�ll stuff my cock in it

Cloak me in the shadow of your blasphemy
Dead or alive, just be my necrophetamine
You�re infernally lovely among sarcophagidae

Feasting on the flesh
That wants to eat you too

I�m so cold in this grave you left wide open
And so lost in these words of broken omens
I feel so used like a dirty little whore
Slaved for the meat of the matter wanting more
Twisting in throes of ritual black magic
Tethered to the game of deathbed romantics
And the torture is so immeasurably
Pleasuring the monster with your witchery

SKULL - FUCK
The crossbones and sinew
Wrapped around the shaft
Bury the ghost within
HELL - BITCH
The smell of the graveyard
Mixed with the sulfur
Coming from your cunt
DEAD - HEAD
Can�t help but salivate
In the full moon light
Jack-O-Lanterns grin
SIX - SIX - SIX
Be my dirty Hell Bitch
In the dead of night
As we fuck in the grave

Cloak me in the shadow of your blasphemy
Dead or alive, just be my necrophetamine
You�re infernally lovely among sarcophagidae

Feasting on the flesh
That wants to eat you too

I�m so cold in this grave you left wide open
And so lost in these words of broken omens
I feel so used like a dirty little whore
Slaved for the meat of the matter wanting more
Twisting in throes of ritual black magic
Tethered to the game of deathbed romantics
And the torture is so immeasurably
Pleasuring the monster with your witchery

(c) 2017 Frank Green