Lies Outside (07.02.08)

I’m on the outside,
Let me inside,
Because it’s cold
And wet outside,
And it’s warm inside;
With you and your lies;
I’m sick of them now,
But I still want to come in

I can’t get away from them,
You’re all alone again,
I’m so sick of crying,
That I feel like dying
‘Cause of you

You split my soul apart
With one lie,
You destroyed my respect
With another,
But I’m still going to
Come back to you

I don’t care
If you leave
Your lies outside
All I care
Is that they
Leave me alone

I don’t care if you fake it,
I don’t care if you lie
All the time
I know you still love me;
You’re desperate for change,
And I’m starving for the truth

I know I’m lacking
But I can change,
I’d stand here
Until you make
Me move
Until there’s
Nothing else
To break us apart

There’s no reason
To leave me
Out in the cold and wet
When I know
You still love me
I beg of you
To let me in
‘Cause I don’t care
That you, Megan
Lied to me
And destroyed my soul
I’d love to be
Next to you
And be warm
With you

The Concrete Blonde (The Dollmaker) (13.02.08)

Newspaper says the trial has just begun,
A verdict to return on the Dollmaker’s run
A bullet from Bosch fire straight and true,
But the dolls should know me work’s not through

On Western is the spot where doth my heart sings,
When I think o’ the dolly laid beneath at Bing’s
Too bad, good Bosch, a bullet of bad aim,
Years gone past, and I’m still in the game

I feel compelled to forewarn and forsake,
T’night I’m out for a snack, my lust partake
Another doll for the shelf, as it weren’t
She breathes her last, just as I squirt

A little late mommy and daddy weeple,
A fine you’ miss ‘neath my steeple
As I tight the purse strings ‘fore preparing the wash,
I hear the last gasp, a sound like Boschhhhh!

Foreshadowed by the end of Los Angeles’ halcyon moment,
She saw the City of Angels becoming a city of despair,
A place where hopes get crushed under the weight of the mad crowd

Long aft’ the body stinking,
Of me you’ll be thinking
For taking your precious blonde,
Oft’ your bloody hands

I’ll make her my dolly,
Aft’ I’ve had my sweet jolly
And maybe to leave them,
For other soft lands

No air for her to swallow,
Aft’ me dare you not follow
Her last words, my gosh,
A sound like Boschhhhh!

I’m the Follower, you see,
Don’t come after me
My dear friend, Hieronymus
Bosch, I wish to stay anonymous
For my work

The chasm rises up to meet her,
That great big pit of blackness,
That lies beneath us….everywhere