To Be Abused Spun on racks of caffeine dreams Torn-out the rumen hangs redeemed Pale moonstones washed in Classic streams, Their white light on the Pallas gleamed Harken, beg, record her choir Beaten canticles abduced, Prepared and spread for each desire, Machines that scream to be abused Her face awaits the column's presence Risen to a swollen post Trembling, her hands are weak But her lips endure the most Endlessly her body feeds On hollow fluids white as Ghost. Deafen him with every taunt, Obeying hips that please her host Stained grass with a fungus plague (Is blight without a ritual?) Was once prepared for trampling claws And growls that made my memory ache Spun on racks of selfmade dreams Like purid moonstone washed clean The Nephesh of my Pallas seems to Understand this release of steam She grabs the chains and shakes the room Lust hungers in her eyes And when I give her what I want Her hunger dies I'm cold and alone in this body of mine I'm cold and alone in this body of mine I'm cold and alone in this body of mine I'm cold and alone in this body of mine I'm cold and alone in this body of mine I'm cold and alone in this body of mine I'm cold and alone in this body of mine I'm cold and alone in this body of mine.