[...]

[..you should know, that if you make me your whore you gotta pay the price...]


i died today

like three times in a roll

and there's not even a hole

to show my woe

so i hung my head

in an empty bed

full of your smell

that's like a shell

to the shards

of man broken hearts

when the sun carves

shine onto visages

i find only bars

where i seek for mars

it feels bleak to leak

'cos scars that bleed

reduce war stars

to metallic warts

for when i say my parts

i leave fading marks