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A sultry, wicked femme fatale with blotchy skin all pale and sweet, |
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A sickly facial glow with holes and gaps dotted along her rotten teeth |
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Hair drawn up high pulling back her face, her arms reach out to grab for me |
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Growling and panting, dribbling and stumbling, murmuring incoherently |
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Evoking the demonic crux of life |
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Calling forth in blasphemous tongues |
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The hunger's returned for the spirit that race's |
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Through her mind, her vains, her lungs |
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With an evil cackle that cuts the air like an E.coli infected rust knife |
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She gropes and searches with filthy hands where weeping sores and scabs are rife |
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I look into her bloodshot eyes and take her in my shaking arms |
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Her language is foul, her breath even worse, never could resist her filthy charms |
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My backdoor crack-whore |
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Gives me lovin' when I'm feeling down |
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My backdoor crack-whore |
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I gave her some white, she offered me the brown |
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Left me sore and feeling sick, as we lay together in our own filth |
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She gave it up, I took her high, she flfet me itching, wanting to die |
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A shadow of my former self, now weak, confused and in poor health |
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Ridden with disease and junkified, spreading the plague rotting out my insides |
