The Blood Brothers - Cecilia And The Silhouette Saloon lyrics

Murder=White Out.
Cancer=Birth Blouse.
Mirror=Perfect Glass Spouse.
Oil=Sex Paint.
Shower=Water Saint.
Death Decodes the howls from our hands.
Skull=Noise Nest.
TV=Fuck Test.
Mirror=Siamese Gun Kiss.
Sugar=Birth Bait.
Murder=Loves Fate.

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?