left with mother's disdain
have I done wrong?
hid from this world's immorality
I'm still unclean

under the earth
buried. laid to rest
I discover..
I dig, I play, I make,
new toys
my designs have a certain realism
authenticity
I get my hands dirty...

cut apart, stitch together
under the moonlight
my work must continue
uninterrupted
god I miss her so

left with father's damned name
and mother's rage
brief moments of serenity
deep in the grave

waiting for night
to blanket the earth and screen
the eyes of the sinners
while I operate
my handiwork would be scorned
she always warned me
not to be trusting of outsiders
return back home
so I can redecorate
skin over skin
in my death museum
would she be proud
of her filthy boy?
"hey ma.. look at me now!"

"hello mommy..
you've come back to me
is that really you?
hell no! a blasphemous masquerade!"

I know the difference
between God's purest angel
and one of Satan's sinners

mother screams through me
your blood is penance enough
redeemed after bone turns to dust

and there's the other one..
how could you crush the hopes
of this poor simpleton?

laughing hysterically
at my own personal joke
as you're bled out
hanging upside down from a rope

...there's not much to do in Plainfield

she will live on through me
yes, forever and ever
she'll live on through me...

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