3/25/02
Come taste my blood
'Cause I'm your sacrifice
You little demon
I'm your ticket
Your innocence
I know you want to taste me
Taste my blood upon your tongue
SO what's wrong?
You little demon
You know why I'm here
I'm your sacrifice at hand
With my death at your command
You can catch me
I won't run
I'm laying here
Bound and tide
Why don't you taste my blood?
Taste your freedom
Fresh and metallic
I've always been so fond of you!
Why should you expect a struggle?
I'm your redemption you are your redeemer
And my blood will set you free
I feel important!
I feel so needed
You little Demon
You don't control me
I'm here at my own will
Now taste my blood
Sweet and metallic
On your tongue
My flesh, I can hear it tear apart
I feel so loved
I'm going to save you
I'm your ticket to heaven
Because you bought your own to Hell
So I'm your Heaven
Come and kiss blood-smeared lips
Here's your ticket
I was your Heaven
Say goodbye to Hell
The title of this one caught my eye. Though I'm not sure what you were expressing, through the gradual change of perspective, I thought it was really reflective of switching roles. I don't know if I'm the only one, but I'm sure from time to time other people feel it to: Getting so tired of getting shit from every angle you think how nice it would be to play the villain for once.
Anyway, whatever you meant in this poem, I love it!
R.