The Dead Peddler

Brother on the street, reach into your pocket
Reach into mine
Speak to me, narcotic god, in your temple
Help me? Save me?

Victory over you, trash man, is to see you dead
Dancing in your blood, glory in your pain

You are clean
We are clean

The peddler is dead, with a kicked in head

Weakness shows, when you see my eyes
Clear, confident and unafraid
Make your offer: extend your soul
Fading, sensual and inviting

Poison follows you, cockroach, and you are next
Dancing in your blood, glory in your suffering

A dead peddler

After feeding on the young and weak
You're face down on the street

We are clean
You are clean

The dead peddler

The peddler is dead