Saturday, November 28, 2009

Teeth (Early Draft Fragments)

Fuck it, I guess I'm doing this again:

Won’t see the teeth
When they comin’ at ya
Blunt knives and hot breath
Creeping by the side of ya neck

Thinking life’s what’s
Inside of ya chest
And tonight be tonight
That you can’t (fucking) hide from ya death

So why’d you leave
The nine on ya desk?
Sweat smothers your face
There’s no escape from this kind of a threat

You shake at the scent
Of bile and old blood stains
Dried out skin
And putrified entrails

A little bit of pressure
At the tip of ya spine
You taste blood
Fear gripping ya mind

You don’t speak
But you’re screaming inside
Your scheme ain’t shit
And now you fiend for time

‘Cause motherfucker knows his business
Cuts the quickness
He’ll leave you dripping
With a crimson necklace

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