Fear in a frame? Or the picture of a girl?
With a gorgonesque stare,
her scale covered hair's got a snake in every curl.
With her forked tongue and her ash colored eyes,
get you down on the floor, naked and sore.
First you shiver, then you die.
Cut your fingers on the page
where those old wounds run deep.
But the taste of the sand,
rosary in her hand.
They still haunt you in your sleep.
Shiver yeah, you'll shiver through the night.
I'm delivered vapid vulture to the light.
Gonna shiver, and shiver, and shiver, and shiver,
you'll shiver through the night.
Deceived by the sound.
The pitter patter of little feet
was the rhythm-less rave of your cloven hoofed babe
calling to you from the street.
And she taunts you as she danced
your genitals in the dirt.
Your paternal heart aches as your bones bend and break
but the beating barely hurts.
So desperate to love but you just can't pretend
that her hands weren't claws.
Your Madonna was Medusa in the end.
It's too late to keep your tongue from sliding
'round the scales of the snake.
Ride the snake.
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