Thursday, January 7, 2010

More Teeth

_ As they say (each dog has his day)
Let the ground rise to meet you
The teeth make their mark
But the fear’s going to eat you

Fangs tear through skin
Canines mash your windpipe
Jaws crush the bones
Then clamp down and cling tight

And shake the fucking life out ya
Barely conscious
Conquered by the night
Face pressed against the wet snow

You think the moment’s come
But it ain’t the end yet though
_ He’ll take it slow
You ain’t about to jet so

Hour after hour
And second after second
Teeth snap your ribcage
While death’s (thin) hand beckons

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