The Blood Brothers - Cecilia And The Silhouette Saloon lyrics
Mirror=Perfect Glass Spouse.
Death Decodes the howls from our hands.
Mirror=Siamese Gun Kiss.
Death distills the camouflage from our dance.
Death inverts the red from romance.
Death x-rays the angels of chance.
Death; the anti-mirror of infants.
Like a picture hiding beneath the digital avalanche.
When Cecilia's grave cracked like a dirt cocoon, she pulled up a stool at the silhouette saloon.
The player piano mumbling crippled jigs. Black widows knitting victimless wigs.
When Cecilia's throat slit like a second set of lips, she drooled braille bibles onto the brothel bed spread.
Like an egg whose yoke defies child bearing hips. Like a ghost who fears all the deceased and dead.
(Time eats the flesh and spits out the shadow like a useless wishbone.)
But that locket spinning around her neck, whose hearth heats a dead valentine, you know the phantom trail leads way
to a muted grave.
Where is his voice now? A dead tone in the flutter of drunken wings.
Where is his blushed cheek now? A face unraveled in shadow, veiled in blind laughter.
Where are those sex ripened lips? His kiss print still warm on several necks.
Where is love now?