Violence - The Telescopes

Sick and intervening as she’s hiding from the

Shrill and piercing laughter, satisfaction

Guaranteed for all who care to taste

The blade, the blade of slaughtered steel

The blade that wounds upon your naked

Skin and as she breathes her lastingé

Please don’t, lay me out in red

Forest deep and thickening bear witness to

This illing sin, of silence only shattering

To relieve the footsteps in your mall of

Heather stained final breath, you mark is

Made upon youré hallowedé sickness

Tortured soul of torment, aching sores and

Blistered wasted on your furniture of roses

Please don’t, lay me out in red

And when I’m dead and lingering inside perverted

Memories that scream the taste of violence tastes

Only of the cobwebs spun upon your shell of

Haunting don’t forget the eyes of redness spill the

Veins that burst with ecstasy purveying thoughts

Of misery

Please don’t lay me out at all!