We suicide on self esteem Every claw makes us bleed Every victim makes for prey Every dog may have his day Every whore takes beyond their need I take beyond the stars it seems I take beyond good taste Every claw makes us bleed When I come I cum to please It's blood and whiskey laced In darkness your only light is touch Taste and strange murmurs of battered faith It warns in bleating drones that go ignored Only a fool makes the same mistake twice Only the utterly retarded make it ten times And still I hear those murmurs Battered faith only needs the lightest touch For a foolish soul restored To suicide, to self confess Every claw makes us bleed What shallow moment to hold a thrill If its fucked, it is fucked still Shame is buried in wrong deeds But words somehow make it less Than sheer betrayal. You see If I thought you any less a fool Of disregard; a fucking tool As every claw makes us bleed There are scratch marks down my backbone More an engraving than a scratch If I look hard, with oxy welding brightness I can still catch faint traces of that night But when I dream nothing is faint You still scream and I still feel you I still hear those murmurs Before an open wound had a name like yours Seeping, wasted beneath your claws By David Peter Robertson