Lucifer's Tale
Sitting up against the wall of the third story bedroom
Salty trail of recurrent tears evident after countless wipes
Chipped black nailpolish on fingers cold and motionless
Black skirt ripped to pieces, starry white shirt bulleted to chest
Gasoline scent wafting heavily from the tattered broom
A single match within book lay neatly on trussed covers
As he smiles with twisted glee at his handiwork
Through the curtainless open window blows a breeze
Swirling the fresh smell of death around once lovers
The moon shines upon her lackluster eyes
One last longing look as he walks across the room
Match in hand alighted, he glances out the door
Slow motion fall as he continuously stares into the next life
Footfalls accelerating as he scrambles away from the place that dies
Up in flames, her world ignited as once her heart had been
That stranger from the post office who stole her heart
Walks away, never turning back until the smile fades
And he relizes what he's done and how his girl is fin
The street, chilled and shadowed, encloses him in guilt
His red-handed palms rip at his amber hair
As his eyes reflect the sins unforgivable burning within
He falls to his knees crying out as his little charred flower wilts
Crazed madman was he, the creeper from the windowsill
Innocent in daylight, horrific by night, he's dangerous
Insanity only grips in the tightest situations and his were always tight
This man's name is Lucifer, an aid of demonic call
Controlled by one, loved by all, and never hesitant to kill
One last hurrah, he runs to the curbside mansion he called home
Fighting all the while his lord's demands to aboutface
A silent scream as he moves through the flaming remains
The body of his soul encrusted by flame, he holds her dome
A hurling fire-stained beam towards the rebellious
His lord has awoken, angry and mighty, and comes forth
Lucifer cringes as his blood boils and skin cracks
One last look into the eys of his previous lord
At last 'tis granted, death of Lucifer, life no longer precious
His lord walks among the wreckage bare-footed
Enjoying the smells of death, destruction, and apocolypse
Transports away from his beautiful creation and broken tool
"I pity the humans," says he, his echoing steps dark-sooted
Salty trail of recurrent tears evident after countless wipes
Chipped black nailpolish on fingers cold and motionless
Black skirt ripped to pieces, starry white shirt bulleted to chest
Gasoline scent wafting heavily from the tattered broom
A single match within book lay neatly on trussed covers
As he smiles with twisted glee at his handiwork
Through the curtainless open window blows a breeze
Swirling the fresh smell of death around once lovers
The moon shines upon her lackluster eyes
One last longing look as he walks across the room
Match in hand alighted, he glances out the door
Slow motion fall as he continuously stares into the next life
Footfalls accelerating as he scrambles away from the place that dies
Up in flames, her world ignited as once her heart had been
That stranger from the post office who stole her heart
Walks away, never turning back until the smile fades
And he relizes what he's done and how his girl is fin
The street, chilled and shadowed, encloses him in guilt
His red-handed palms rip at his amber hair
As his eyes reflect the sins unforgivable burning within
He falls to his knees crying out as his little charred flower wilts
Crazed madman was he, the creeper from the windowsill
Innocent in daylight, horrific by night, he's dangerous
Insanity only grips in the tightest situations and his were always tight
This man's name is Lucifer, an aid of demonic call
Controlled by one, loved by all, and never hesitant to kill
One last hurrah, he runs to the curbside mansion he called home
Fighting all the while his lord's demands to aboutface
A silent scream as he moves through the flaming remains
The body of his soul encrusted by flame, he holds her dome
A hurling fire-stained beam towards the rebellious
His lord has awoken, angry and mighty, and comes forth
Lucifer cringes as his blood boils and skin cracks
One last look into the eys of his previous lord
At last 'tis granted, death of Lucifer, life no longer precious
His lord walks among the wreckage bare-footed
Enjoying the smells of death, destruction, and apocolypse
Transports away from his beautiful creation and broken tool
"I pity the humans," says he, his echoing steps dark-sooted