Mambo Witch
A Split-Second - ...From the Inside
A startling sense of dislocation
Pushed away by voodoo crap
Spill your poison somewhere else
Can't shake the needles from your back
Captured by the hindu curse
that holds your mesmerized
to keep my burning hope alive
The long black hair that smells like incense
turns to vipers in my mind
You foul the pyramids with your presence
Holding in your tiny claws
The snakes that feed the witch with venom
Sound of torture and moral exhaustion
Barely concealed by telephone wires
Heal the wounds and lick the scars
Screw up your eyes to read your stars
Bound to burn at any price