Standing over the kitchen sink,
Dirt clinging to my fingers like nearly forgotten sins:
Creeping under my nails,
Like memories desperate to stay within me.
There\'s no room under my skin,
Ever since you invaded me.
You entered through enchanted eyes,
Then a whisper, then a kiss.
Those red knives with which I danced,
And listened to the stream of lies pouring from the valley of their peaks.
Who knew honest eyes could be lies themselves?
I need an exorcist,
I need a surgeon,
Just let me give birth to this monster you concieved inside of me.
I feel it\'s constriction upon my heart,
I feel it\'s thumping laughter in my head.
So water cleanse me,
Wash away the evidence of my pain.
I understand the scars will never heal
But at least they are internal.
I would wake in her bed of nails and smile despite my pain,
For even a coffin cradling her beauty,
Still looks inviting.
So water, my counsel,
Water, my witness,
Cleanse the evidence,
Wash away the dirt,
While I take care of the body.