Fleshwork

(This love, so pure)
(Each bit of lead wants more)

Porcelain strings on me
Pulse racing, burning with lust
Desire to control me
To render all around to dust

(So pure)
(The little things we sought)
(The gore)
It peels away from my head

Watch how it fights
The iron surrounds becoming sight
Forgotten
Oil leaks from rifled marrow
I leave behind my sorrow

Can you forgive what I become?
This demon is a gun

No turning back
Save me, save me, save me

Can you forgive what I become?
This demon is a gun

Black inexistence falls
Loose rubble fails to form
Traces removed of all
Wiped from the face of terror