---

The serum of defeat
Fills her clasping nails.
Trembling underneath
Her hate prevails.

She walks down the stony hall
With skin deep on wretched blood;
Tongue of morphine and alcohol
Bulging vacant eyes, creepy hair of mud.

The knife on her hand
Finds the way of gravity
Into his flesh she decays with ecstasy.
Golden smile: it ́s her last stand.
Into his chest she carves her hate
She ́s the mother of dirt (and) sister of rape,
For his final breath she cannot wait.
Every organ is there to reshape
Into vengence of thought
And verily I tell you: she ́s the dream he sought.

As his stare fades away
Her hands tremble in joy.
Tiresome but not in dismay
Below this mighty Helen of Troy.

He now tries to crawl
Into a final resting place
The woman-beast sends out a bawl
Pouring desire over his face.

And though he wanted to fall
By a stranger ́s hand, not his own,
Her wicked heart was a stonewall,
An evil that from him had grown.

She did scream and moan.
Above his flesh, a meaty throne;
A body despitefully thrown,
Kept barely alive by her will and methadone.

Still he lingers on a corner:
An eternal limbo of viciousness
By herself she ́s killer and mourner
For without him lies emptiness.

She curses death and the pleasure it gave.
She is fading away into decay;
Her creator she could not save;
There ́s nothing to weep for and nothing to say.

---

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