C17-H19-N03-H20 - Enslavement of Beauty

I beweep my foolish prudence, I beweep thy sick reluctancy

Chaos disguised as nought, accusing acquaintance of sodomy

Sometimes I just stare blankly for hours

Wondering how it could have been

Interrupted only by the blur of sight from the tears I shed in between

I crawl my way through morphine days

Anodyne at least, in opiating grace

I knew it was killing me

But the apple seemed so sweet

And I still, sometimes, dream of thee…

I am the tranquil king, I mirror cupid in all these phrases

There’s a sadness in our eyes, dancing stars and trancing faces

I am the faithless mainstream of poker puss mannequins to be

These days everybody smiles and all the cameras are circling me

In forvid energy… I still extol thy image to the sky (and beyond)

Thou art petite, thou art pristine…

(and) my superlatives are not just words

The humid energy (of passion) granted us the wings of hell

We are drifting aimlessly (on) our way to somewhere

I crawl my way through morphine days

Anodyne at least, in opiating grace

I knew it was killing me

But the apple seemed so sweet

And I still, sometimes, dream of thee…

I waive my attempts to smile, I waive my attempts to care

Tinged with bizarre implicit violence

I mimic the expression they expect me to bear

I am the pretty, pretty sex machine, when we come is when we die

Deceit is a pill for us to share, leaving an all time high…