a different kind of death

The Blunt Force TraumaThe Blunt Force… 

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The Blunt Force Trauma

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Corroded gold and silver testify
Eat through flesh like fire
When I'm crawling down the wire
Whips lash
Cast iron pots and pans will smash
Multicoloured christs come pouring out the new-formed gash
Trading femur bones for soap stones
All your wealth has rotted
The moths have got your clothes
Breaking down in my cheerios t-shirt
Please don't look at me
I'm a disgusting creature

Locked in cough syrup handcuffs
Stillborn beauty with the bluff
Who's to say when enough's enough
Ceratopsian madonna
She gave you her whole life
And this is what you wanna
Kiss less virgin lucile
She requests that her last meal
Be every heart that she could not afford to steal

I'm searching for a different kind of death
One that smiles
One with nice fresh minty breathe

Keep making faces see if you get far
But you'd better not call me
When you're living in your car
Tasmanian scorpions
Fresh from some zone in hell
Have come to take over your throne & bells

Make love to the '87 super bowl champions
Get on your knees
And cry about your so-called friends
I won't slice bologna for the man no more
It's really no fun being his whore
Maybe pepperoni for cheerleading conquistadors
Triple six encrypted on his chest
Reciting the entire alphabet
Trying oh so hard not to forget the rest
She's got cotton candy lollipops
Sitting up on mountaintops
Next to signs that beg you to stop
I know it's not real I know it's here
But it's just so hard not to have any fear
When I can hear it right there in my ear

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