And you say that I should cry
that my pain is too dry
too passive, too eager, too calm

and from the cool of your despair
you shot me that line
and I crashed from your arms
and into my child

Angel whore....

she appears so fragile
a simple soul
but if pushed, if touched (fucked)
if messed, if mauled
the steel would slide.....silently.....between the ribs

through the chanting, the whispering
to the febrile core
of my guilt, of my innocence
my angel whore


but cruelly patient
this foetid fear
like an icy, black fissure
tearing near

and what runs through my head
like a bare-assed banshee
is that one day I'll fall too violently
to ever come back

Angel whore...
she appears so fragile
a simple soul
if pushed , if touched
if messed, if mauled
steel would slide... silently... between the ribs