With Teeth, We Bite

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Nine Inch Nails “Survivalism (Instrumental)”

We were never meant to see
We were never meant to dream
We were never meant to host the ghosts of who we used to be
Used up and discarded
Anally retarded
Fails on epic scales pronounced the frail and the fainthearted
The hardest thing to be is just ourselves
But we make it look so easy
And the powers that be ever toweringly do not like it

Survival is the chosen key
Revival is the open door
However, this endeavor is a red letter event when they request both feet be nailed down to the floor
Reasons to be cheerful count as treason and will lead to the receipt of a most disapproving earful
Moving on is violation
Better then to waste away
Better just to sever ties with right of way they chased away
Side order of razor blades just so we can taste the pain
Just so we digest the blame
Forget we ever had a name

Nightmares in our damaged brains
Eyesores with protruding veins
Broken little one-armed bandits
Crudely tumored human stains
Decimated decimals, each numeral a funeral in waiting
Soon to be a eulogy, presumably to devastate the widow of a chamber strangulated

Blunted by these grunts with teeth
Shunted out of violent disbelief
Caked in cruor, bloody minded
Shake us down, they’ll never find it
Never learn the secret of the naked flame arage inside us
Find us at the furnace and we’ll burn it to the ground
Then reconstruct the very second they are not around

Cannot go through this again
Will not go through this again
We were never meant to see
Through eyes with nothing true to say
Cut to shape and put to shame
Out of favour
Shooed away
Neutered feet on flat terrain
Packed on the commuter train
Best to simply let us be
Remember we were never meant to see

This makes us a clear and present danger
For, whores of mother nature we may be but maybe she gets off on fucking strangers
Took some time to find our range
Cock our rifles
March our feet
Lock it down with teeth that bite and toss away the master key

Shooting stars and looting stripes
Dreaming dreams of waking life
Death forsaken
Undertaking renovating enterprise
Lips as black as sea, exacting kisses with our teeth that bite
Pissing on the ashes of the lives undressed we left behind
Seeping through the pavement cracks
Cracking whips of ties that failed to bind

This runs so much deeper than they dared to dream it would
We were never meant to see
Only ever meant to be misunderstood, eventually cut down like trees for fire wood and
Likely never put to use
Irreconcilably different from remainder of our breed
Rifles cocked and jaws that lock
With teeth

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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