Megalomaniac

from the dust hundred forty three one fell in the circle of the world like a flower bud a million marbled mouths all blinking moon of milky briar blooms sleeping blithy flies swarm a swift pull trigger lift me off the ledge, lick the sticky liquor don’t let him in, don’t let them call your number won’t you hold my hand as i go under ooh come a little closer ooh same as the last ooh megalomaniac cut my tongue, better watch your back eye to thigh as he sharpens his blade thick sweat, sick salt, lead belly aches i don’t know what i’ve been drinking dripping dread as all the lights start screaming seven inch steel bolt fed to the head now is then and i am now bound to forget the devil wears a cotton dress over his gun jagged mumbles wispy warbles blushing in the sun