We are damned and we are dead
all god's children to be sent
to our perfect place in the sun
and in the dirt
angels with needles
poked through our eyes
let the ugly light
of the world in
we were no longer blind
"Flesh? Am I flesh to you? Feed on flesh...
my flesh. Nothing else, not a spark.
Fine. Flesh then...
solid through, get it hard, service the girl."
In my solitude I know anyway
That I have no other to thank but myself
That's why I'm calm when
The rope is tightened around my neck