Your Ghost Takes Flight

The last time that I saw you,
August of '99,
I should have had my hammer and a few rusty spikes,
To nail you on a wall,
And use bottles to catch your blood.
Display you for the neighbors
So they'd know your time had come.

And I'd drink your blood.
Feel it dripping down my throat,
And heading for my heart.

And as your body sags,
And the stench rises in vain,
The people on the street are collecting in dismay.
Before their eyes,
Your head lifts towards the sky,
And that's the last thing I remember of you.

And I drank your blood.
Feel it dripping down my throat,
And heading for my heart.

You become a ghost.
You're floating somewhere in between
The waking world,
And a landscape of dreams.

Well it is nothing but dying.
You've got a grenade stuck in your teeth,
And you're pulling at the pin.
You're an illusion,
Just a shadow flickering underneath the sun.

And I'd drink your blood.
I feel it dripping down my throat,
And heading for my heart.

- Chris Conley

- posted by Jonathan@ 6:36 PM