i will carve up your soul like last night's dinner and serve it up to your parents and uncles and aunts. i'll season it, garnish it and don't worry babe, i won't forget the salt. we can't let them taste the bitterness of your bones still clinging to a shadow of a soul.
now you yourself cling to me, helpless as a babe ((mine mine mine))
breathing on my neck, fingers tightening on my waist. but i can still taste your soul, my love.
- and it's as sweet as
last week's milk
