Cecilia and the Silhouette Saloon

歌詞

Murder=White Out. Cancer=Birth Blouse. Mirror=Perfect Glass Spouse. Oil=Sex Paint. Shower=Water Saint. Death Decodes the howls from our hands. Skull=Noise Nest. TV=Fuck Test. Mirror=Siamese Gun Kiss. Sugar=Birth Bait. Murder=Loves Fate. Death distills the camouflage from our dance. Death inverts the red from romance. Death x-rays the angels of chance. Death; the anti-mirror of infants. Like a picture hiding beneath the digital avalanche. When Cecilia's grave cracked like a dirt cocoon, she pulled up a stool at the silhouette saloon. The player piano mumbling crippled jigs. Black widows knitting victimless wigs. When Cecilia's throat slit like a second set of lips, she drooled braille bibles onto the brothel bed spread. Like an egg whose yoke defies child bearing hips. Like a ghost who fears all the deceased and dead. (Time eats the flesh and spits out the shadow like a useless wishbone.) But that locket spinning around her neck, whose hearth heats a dead valentine, you know the phantom trail leads way to a muted grave. Where is his voice now? A dead tone in the flutter of drunken wings. Where is his blushed cheek now? A face unraveled in shadow, veiled in blind laughter. Where are those sex ripened lips? His kiss print still warm on several necks. Where is love now?