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​The Hawk, The Butcher, The Killer Of Beauties

This song is by Chris Connelly and appears on the album Whiplash Boychild (1991).

If you were praying for an early eclipse,
To fold the greed within the spectrum-shift,
The gaping misfortune in the drain of disdain,
White out the night if we reach home again.

The hawker indicates magnificate fear,
Too cold for comfort in the hate-mosphere,
I knelt down beside her melting heart and hell,
Too drunken to see where her faithlessness fell.

The mixed in beliefs again,
Betrayal in heat again.
A need to release in the comfort
Of sideway shadows
All playing at cutting the creeps in two.

She is only the tenth to remind me,
A deafening slant on the desperate man,
Carousel movements in anti-terrain,
Blow holes between the legs of her shame.

The murderer passed as a magus,
Hiding for fear that his guild disappears,
Alone is the butcher in surrogate stains,
Breaking his back to reach home again.