THIS WICKED PLACE

SPIKE IN HANDS

SPIKE IN FEET

HUNG LIKE WOOD

IN PAIN SO SWEET

GARBLED WORDS

LIKE LOVE AND FRIEND

BLOOD SOAKED DAYS

THE BITTER END

PIERCE THE FLESH

OF THIS A FOOL

STANDING ON

A WHIRLPOOL

OF LIFE AND DEATH

AND THAT BETWEEN

OF WHICH IS NOT

AND WHAT IS SEEN

PAIN THAT TAKES

YOU TO A PLACE

WHERE SCORN IS WRITTEN

ON YOUR FACE

TEARS OF BLOOD

MAY MEND YOUR SOUL

BUT DESTINY

CAN MAKE YOU WHOLE

WILL YOU STAND

AGAINST YOURSELF

AND BLINDLY FOLLOW

SOMEONE ELSE

TO DEATH'S OWN DOOR

WHERE NONE CAN LEAVE

THAT PLACE WHERE WOMEN

STAND AND GRIEVE

MOTHERS SISTERS

DO NOT TERRY

HERE FOR LONG

WHERE NOTHING MERRY

RISES UP

TO MEET THE DAWN

OF LIFE UNBORN

THAT MUST GO ON

BE MY LOVE

AND TASTE MY SKIN

WRAP YOURSELF

INSIDE MY SIN

CLEAN MY WOUNDS

AND AND TOUCH MY FACE

AND LET US LEAVE

THIS WICKED PLACE.

Robert Parker Jameson Mar 19, 2009