Lucas Lanthier - Heathen Smile | Текст песни

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• Lucas Lanthier
• Heathen Smile

There’s a notch in my thumbnail, it cut her. And now, from without, cascades, dogs barking.
Every breath from each lung shakes and rattles and now, on her skin, a quick boil of whispers.

She’s got warty eyeholes and fungus in her nostrils. She’s lovely but stupid.
She combs her hair with meathooks and then makes you smell her fingers. Her bloodline is ancient.

A desperate dinner is laid out on linen. It itches and whines. It’s orange peels and bread crumbs.
Half-rotted dormice are snarling from the shadow of a steam-shrouded samovar whistling, lividly.

If you stay much longer then you’ll be rotting with her in a slow slosh of timeless bile.
You’ll have to sort her flowers in a vase of tepid water, with a cringing, heathen smile.

She’s somehow trussed up in a giddy and gaudy exclamation of panic and vanity.
Rug burns and dingy crochet, red and age-withered white, in a blur as she fails.

She invited you there. Mind your manners, don’t swear! She loathes coarseness.
Go ahead and hold her. The song is almost over, then she’ll end things, crying.

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