Geggy Tah
She Withers
Out of the way there is a quiet placeWhere there's no skin to scarAnd there's no time to wasteFull of emptiness I cannot touch the bottomLines on her face falling in her autumnWith her while she withersAwayIn a mangel-wurzel for the cattleWashing for the battle hymn to hurry upand hold onSlaughter is to you a manicure her nailson impaled palmsSpringing out of this flesh stirs a life at the bottomWith her while she withersAwayWith her while she withersAway
From Letras Mania