There's not a prayer in the world

In any sect or any tongue

Holy enough to be answered

To undo what's been done



The urge to recoil and strike

Swells like the tide

This classic position

A beginning which looks like the end



It lingers to sting

Abcess and canker

Swollen decay

Lusting forever



The most wretched of flypaper thoughts race

Across the mind as the moan like a whore

Their only love is to linger and sting

And swell by feeding on the hurt they bring

You won't live through this