Daughters (2010)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Virgin

Paul wears a hat of fire. He says it's not so bad if you can stand the smell of burning hair
Paul Wear's a hat of fire. He has so much love to give. But no one will get close to him.
Paul wears a hat of fire. He says. "It's a lonely life when no one will shake your hand."
Paul wears a hat of fire. He told me he doesn't see a point to going out anymore.

His mother tried to teach him right from wrong. Still, he wont take it off.

Paul wears a hat of fire. He knows you and your
friends are talking about him when he's not around.
Paul wears a hat of fire. He doesnt think you have any right to question his motivation.
Paul wears a hat of fire. He knows you wont be happy until he's lying dead in the street.
Paul wears a hat of fire. Now he is all but naked with a handgun on your front lawn.

 

 

The First Supper

Captain John Boyd crawls out forkm under a mountain of death
with the warmth of blood running down his throat.
It tells our hero he's no different than a beast.
When a man sees another man as nothing more than meat.

All that blood finds it's way into a mans dreams.
Into his needs.

It's said that eating the flesh of a man will give the other that man's strength.
One can steal the soul by looking into the eyes when the teeth sink in.
"Turn from the gates of hell only to stare into the abyss."
You'd welcome death if you could find a noose that fits.

 

The Hit

A white man, in a white suit, an a white horse rides into town off that dusty ol' trail.
He rides into town, not just any town. I'm talking d-e-a-d e-n-d
with integrity and his heart on his sleeve.

He hopes they are going to buy what he believes.

He offers every fool and every friend.
that's a population of one hundred and three.
a cure to their unchristian like ways.
with a simple process of "drawing out"
through the hole in the top of the skull
then a snip, a cut and a couple of knots tied off.
He offers to make them as good as new.
"Better than you're used to"

Sadly. The locals didn't take kindly to this well intentioned man
They don't want a hand out form him.
Instead, they take offense to a man coming into their town looking to tell right from wrong.
That's when the situation goes from bad to worse.
As they string him up at the town hall.
It appears our smart-ass should have kept along that dusty, lonely trail.

They tell him "The hands are the eyelids of the soul."

 

The Theatre Goer

Six million jaws hit the theatre floor.
As I rest my hand in something wet and warm.
I feel you watching from the corner of your eye.
If you move closer to me. I won't mind.

Just make it last. It's your skin, your hands, your face that's coming on.
But it's regret that makes the cab ride home such a drag.


Our Queens (One is Many)

Silence! Order! The queen is here.
Arms and legs like kindling.
One asleep down the road, another in here.
About as safe as a skeleton at the wheel.

Silence! Order! Our queen is here.
A dame. A crown. A death grip.
So far away can't see her face.
But we can hear her cum over the airwaves.

I want it.

I want my cock in a hand on a train.
I want the coolness and the numbness at my fingertips.

Lips at the wrist like razor blades.
That throne of bone grows comforting.
She closes her eyes, but not to go away.
This could be my only chance to usurp the name

They go. They get off.



The Dead Singer

Hey there, on that cross, with your breath turned sickly and stale.
Your eyes sunk back in your skull. That disaster through your hands.

Hey there, little girl, with that charm hanging down 'round your neck.
The damned are awash at your feet and asleep in your dress.

There's a voice in our ears and it's promise sits empty and bare.
It can change the look on a face. Though it's not really there.

Now here in the ground, with out lids and breasts covered in dirt.
We can't seem to get to our feet. We can't seem to breathe.

The dead sing along.
You can't be that boy.
You can't be that girl.
You can't be that voice.
You can't let it go.



Sweet Georgia Brown

She's going to cut you down. She's going to to turn you out.
She's going to make you wish you never seen her face before.
She's going to break you down. She's going to put you out.
She's going to make an example out of you and your sorry skin

You're dead already.
Dead as a doornail. I am singing to the dead.
You're trying to bring the right one home. But you'll end up with a hole in your head.

She breathes fire, She sweats tar.
Although she's a looker, that's just the surface and that's all she wants you to know.

She'll have you running up and down the street asking advice from friends, neighbors and family.
Water filled veins and stone cold heart she's the medusa of your deep blue need.
So don't start crying, saying you don't know what you know.
She'll cut your throat before you could even wish wish wish yourself home.

Her business card reads:
"Put my name atop the list of those who can love you all away. Sweet G.B."


The Unattractive Portable Head

"Lifeless and indifferent face on the wall, who is the fairest one this fall?"

I've spent a season with the wolves at the door. with dirty magazines, spread out, all across my floor.
Some say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree but that's just a lazy way to dismiss the seed.
This seed is looking to put on a few hundred years.
And willing to earn them through your blood and your tears.

I want you to listen to the sound of my voice and know I was created by chance not by choice. Some may call that the death of the light but I like to call it "Embracing the night"
Too many hands are held out to take. Too many hands aren't prepared to break.
Now, for antoher season with the wolves at the door, hungry and scratching and begging for more.

There is a future your eyes may not see. There is a future you may not believe.
There is a future that will be here in time. But some won't make it to sign on that line.
I've seen an endless sky of ships explode and realized some men will never make it home.
We near a time when all of us know. When we find out. Do we really reap what we sow?

It will be cold when the rain comes, to lose the tears as they fall.
I will be cold to pull a lesser man from a ledge and then and then and then...
I want to cast pff the wings of desire. I want be buried in a field of fire.
I want to stand up and be twenty feet tall. I want to reach out and feel nothing at all.

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