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Sin

TJ9001

Desire · Family · Home · Loss · Memory · Solitude

It can begin with goodbye,But the ending is a lie.Like a trick birthday candle -- no matter how hard you tryTo blow it out, the light burns.Childhood truth spent big earnsSpace for waste, want and concernsOf itself none can handle No matter how the heart years.We're left with only questions And our dreams filled with mansionsHaunted with blank reflections And the touch of a vandalOn our tender affections.In the name of the fatherOr the madness of the motherEchoes talk to each other Of familial scandalsThat held the walls together,And those were simpler times. Now, it seems nobody mindsSpectating the wheel that grindsAll sorts like it's a channelSome cunt insomniac finds At 3am on t.v.The one with pornography;Pretty girls and sodomyMap the forsaken annalsOf what we have come to beAnd the watcher enjoys it.Mouth of hell, drooling a bit, Smiles. Lickerish lips split,Showing teeth that time cancels.Grinning cannibal of shitKeks at us no matter what.Keks at us no matter what . . .

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