Thought Industry - Blistered Text And Bleeding Pens lyrics

rate me

In life I'm skin stretched to form my body. With life<br />

We can hope to grow old alone. In life all is well.<br />

Strapped empty to a placid dream. In the fields is where<br />

I belong. Blistered text and bleeding pens.<br />

<br />

In life we are one. Extensions of each other. With life<br />

We can find that death is on the outside, in life all is<br />

Well, left dancing a laughing tree. In the hills is where I<br />

Belong. Blistered text and bleeding pens.<br />

<br />

Venice please will you hide my face and change my<br />

Eyes. Friends aren't friends. They look to themselves.<br />

Their advice is wrong. Selfish. Blatant. On the Bridge of<br />

Sighs a piece of bleeding art. Mold me still with plaster<br />

Joints and a pompous grin. I shall die within my song.<br />

<br />

Your life for my life.<br />

Your life for my life.<br />

Your life for my life.<br />

Your life for my life.<br />

<br />

The Rialto. Buy here, sell there. I see a face. Carletta.<br />

The Rialto. Thieves and lovers, mimes and jugglers, <br />

Read me poems from Venetia. Of tired men with hearts<br />

Of gold. Of the whore without a neck. So the palace<br />

Guards could not take her head. Dead. My. Head.<br />

<br />

In pools we swirl beyond the point of transition. All<br />

Must try. All must fail.<br />

The Renaissance Ants crawl deep in her mouth, <br />

Yea. Across her breasts and within her thighs. Christ has<br />

Known these thighs before. The Ants of Enlightenment<br />

Have her moaning to their cause. She chews on the<br />

Ants still trapped in her teeth. Christ has known this<br />

Mouth before.<br />

<br />

At the Grand Canal Carletta cries. The gondolier<br />

Says, "Wipe your face, whore". I just laugh, now looking<br />

Down. The gondola's a paper swan. Pulp.<br />

On the mezzanine I watch the old man scream. Like<br />

Cats ripping doves apart wing by wing. Violins, <br />

Tangerines, and one glass eye. I love Carletta and with<br />

That I sigh.<br />

<br />

Who wins? Who wins you? Forgive? Forgive. I could<br />

Not choose; and both poets lose. We lose.