Precision Animosity (rock_the_bunny) wrote in deathful,
Precision Animosity

I sat in a little cafe
In a little cafe on a hill
On a hill in a town I never knew
I never knew you tasted so good
You tasted so good that night in my chains
That night
Blood dripping from fresh wounds
The stench of sex and paranoia
Permeating my brain
Enveloping my skin
You tasted so good
Licking the tears from your blistered cheeks
I begged you not to go
But your ship had come in
And back to the depths of festering seclusion
You did sink...
So I sat in a little cafe
Sipping tea on a rather steep hill
Dreaming of sex and paranoia
Blood and kisses
Imploding in my little world
Of regret and cigarette burns
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