I have stood before your cigarettes,
Watched the flakes settle on your pen;
My nakedness under your skyscrapers
Now laughs at your limp tie.
Your snakes cannot scare me,
Your sword I have seen through,
The pistol that you hold
Had wished that I died but I didn’t.
Keep the iron rod ready
As after I crush your tower
My lips which played the flute
Will chew your snakes
And I will wipe them clean with your limp tie
And your blood will be my lipstick.
