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Lyrics for 'Cecilia And The Silhouette Saloon' by 'Blood Brothers'
Murder = White Out.
Cancer = Birth Blouse.
Mirror = Perfect Glass Spouse.
Oil = Sex Paint.
Shower = Water Saint.
Death Decodes The Howls From Our Hands.
Skull = Noise Nest.
Tv = Fuck Test.
Mirror = Siamese Gun Kiss.
Sugar = Birth Bait.
Murder = Loves Fate.
Death Distills The Camouflage From Our Dance.
Death Inverts The Red From Romance.
Death X-rays The Angels Of Chance.
Death; The Anti Mirror Of Infants.
Like A Picture Hiding Beneath The Digital Avalanche.
When Cecilia's Grave Cracked Like A Dirt Cacoon,
She Pulled Up A Stool At The Silhouette Saloon.
The Player Piano Mumbling Crippled Jigs,
Black Widows Knitting Victimless Wigs.
When Cecilia's Throat Slit Like A Second Set Of Lips
She Drooled Braille Bibles Onto The Brothel Bed Spread,
Like An Egg Whose Yoke Defies Child Bearing Hips.
Like A Ghost Who Fears All Of The Deceased And Dead.
(time Eats The Flesh And Spits Out The Shadow Like A Useless Wishbone.)
But That Locket Spinning Around Her Neck,
Whose Hearth Heats A Dead Valentine,
You Know The Phantom Trail Leads Way To A Muted Grave.
Where Is His Voice Now?
A Dead Tone In The Flutter Of Drunken Wings,
Where Is His Blushed Cheek Now,
A Face Unraveled In Shadow, Veiled In Blind Laughter.
Where Are Those Sex Ripened Lips,
His Kiss Print Still Warm On Several Necks.
Where Is Love Now?
Murder = White Out.
Cancer = Birth Blouse.
Mirror = Perfect Glass Spouse.
Oil = Sex Paint.
Shower = Water Saint.
Death Decodes The Howls From Our Hands.
Skull = Noise Nest.
Tv = Fuck Test.
Mirror = Siamese Gun Kiss.
Sugar = Birth Bait.
Murder = Loves Fate.
Death Distills The Camouflage From Our Dance.
Death Inverts The Red From Romance.
Death X-rays The Angels Of Chance.
Death; The Anti Mirror Of Infants.
Like A Picture Hiding Beneath The Digital Avalanche.
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