| Again and again | |
| It winds slick/lix-like to have a fire site | |
| Perilous thorn in my brain | |
| Parasite nimble with convulsed streams of plasma | |
| Nestles, sure of entry, in my brain | |
| It breeds | |
| It sweats | |
| It burns It lives | |
| Piece by piece, it knows me, and | |
| I know it | |
| Just when it comes and when it goes | |
| It stays by me, in secret, all alone | |
| Whenever I do what it drives me to | |
| It takes a little piece of me and burns it | |
| As a tribute to its god | |
| As its temple and its victim | |
| My blood runs on marble floors | |
| Just like some insane circulation | |
| Back into my corroded heart | |
| By then I realize | |
| There's just one door | |
| One door, unlocked | |
| I open the door, and |
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