Corium

I am full of celestial patterns and cosmic battle scars.

Chock-full of wandering melodies

Plucked on badly tuned guitars.

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Full of burns and blisters

And peeling skin.

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I dream with my eyes open,

Vomit with my mouth closed,

And breathe in crisp lungfuls of smoke.

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There are stars on the back of my eyelids.

They crackle on film.

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It's a pastime to throw corpses from the roof

And leave irradiated bones in a trail

Across the country, continent, the globe.

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But their clothes are in a heap

With rotted memories and useless gasmasks.

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Oh, give people a chance

To dance in the nuclear snow.

Let them dip their hands into the poison rivers and drink.

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Give them a chance to smile at the fire,

To fucking lose their minds.

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They're all dead anyway.

Now or later, now and later.

They're all a walk statistic so what does it matter?

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Add a few more smiles to the pile of bones

And sell them some cyanide.

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Come on, let's have some fun now!

Let's run around barefoot in the Red Forest

And drop matches to the grass.

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Fuck it.

Eat the plutonium.

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Grab that yellow sign and parade me around,

Parade around the walking ghost

Who had too little common sense and too much hunger.

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Fuck it.

Let's dance in the Sarcophagus.

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It's over.

It was from the start but take my hand, won't you?

Dance with me a moment, take it slow.

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Let's die like a star,

Bright and burning and irradiated to hell.