I've never been to a church like this before
All the candles are black
The smell of incense burns my nose
I was young, she was old
I can't tell if your thoughts are real
On your neck the sign of the seventh seal
On your breath the taste of nutrasweet
From your loins, an incredible heat
I sold my soul to Mephistopheles
Sweet Mountain Water
She talked back so I shot her {..and I cut her up}
She wouldn't wear what I bought her
And now I'm runnin' scared..
Duncan's improv :: "...it was just like the meteor storm // I held her hand & those claws sunk into my wrists... and I knew that we were going to the Altar in the Woods // Where she would put things... // close the door inside yourself, you'll put it on the shelf // Last Time, Last Time.. this is the last time that I will ride this fisting machine... I can't go on.."