Red lips reminds me of her
she’s in every one of them.
Shaped like two baby
beans on the neck
of my satin white shirt she shall be my death she
shall be the end of us.
Still, every red lips starts
a fire between my legs.
Every red lips burns
a shadow in my red satin.
I’ve got a tongue as sharp as a blunt needle
It would prick your ego and make
you bath in muddle
My palm soothes like a sandpaper
My picture lines the bed of a pauper
Now what say you young hero
do you still want my withered hand in matrimony.
Spare me the curse of seeing the future
the temptation of tampering with it
the helplessness of seeing the inevitable
Yeah, spare me the curse of a seer
the future is a neverland of change.
Cause blood stinks like iron, we adorn our bodies with Lavender and Jasmine.
Cause the map of blood is death, we lay our heads in the pool of red clotting in our neighbours’ veins.
Cause we fear for our lives, we lie still among cold bodies, cover our faces with our friends’ veins, believing death might just save us.