Fallen
Kill me with your words
Slice open this alabaster shell; tear up the epidermis of sin
Curse these angel’s eyes to weep as I walk with the steps of a dead man
To my execution, to the final kiss of the silver axe
The whip falls, outlining my spine
I cry out and God looks at me
His eyes filled with judgment
And I watch myself fall
Reflected in His eyes again.
The night clings like a shadow over my window
Seeking my withered eye to blink
I lie here in a bed of nails
Watching the blood slither to the floor
Like Eve’s beloved snake
In little streams of calligraphy
Drying up the colour of cherry wood.
My existence carries on as I lie in blissful agony
I’ve fallen deep into the world, into my own shade of Dante’s Inferno
Where the circles of hell reverberate upon these walls
To the fitful beat of my pulse.
Dawn sleeps and night reigns
This kingdom of dancing crows
Of jeering demons
Of crowns made of lilies
And robes of rose petals
Charred by hell’s possessive tongue
Is mine.
They wait for me to fly
With broken wings, torn feathers
I’ve fallen from grace
I meet your eyes
And long for the kiss that shall end me.
Slice open this alabaster shell; tear up the epidermis of sin
Curse these angel’s eyes to weep as I walk with the steps of a dead man
To my execution, to the final kiss of the silver axe
The whip falls, outlining my spine
I cry out and God looks at me
His eyes filled with judgment
And I watch myself fall
Reflected in His eyes again.
The night clings like a shadow over my window
Seeking my withered eye to blink
I lie here in a bed of nails
Watching the blood slither to the floor
Like Eve’s beloved snake
In little streams of calligraphy
Drying up the colour of cherry wood.
My existence carries on as I lie in blissful agony
I’ve fallen deep into the world, into my own shade of Dante’s Inferno
Where the circles of hell reverberate upon these walls
To the fitful beat of my pulse.
Dawn sleeps and night reigns
This kingdom of dancing crows
Of jeering demons
Of crowns made of lilies
And robes of rose petals
Charred by hell’s possessive tongue
Is mine.
They wait for me to fly
With broken wings, torn feathers
I’ve fallen from grace
I meet your eyes
And long for the kiss that shall end me.