The Hollowed Out Chest of A Dead Horse

I've seen you
Seen you sitting in your bed in your brown gown of dead flowers
And inside your room, in its corners where spiders crawl
And a sour dream centipede slips under your mattress
Until it's time
Oh, gimme that, my back back, back
Oh, your beauty, let it rot, let your fucking beauty rot
Let it rot

She looks right through me, I can make out her shape
Her silhouette's false, her legs crossed
Eyes black, spilling on me

Lie down now if you please, darling, so I can do our world a service
Dream, dream, and dream