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Tongues, lost in me yours be the sharp and the vile Glide neath my skin storm trough my nerves I bury the nomad years hours in the earth couldn't exorcise these searing, peaking tongues Immune you say yet venom stakes in strangest guises Tongue, throat, tongue slayer of the word and stealer of vision A monumental reign of terrors throats slit up to stain the target We're food for the hounds of trauma, prey to the crows of stress No power left to retrieve my stolen language Filtered though the illiterate fingers of death Flies let sickness be poured from the cupped hands of bedlam On account of their brightness I made friends with the word and the moon went with the tide and left for the sound of dead instruments thrown out of tune The red square patterns, dragonrise and evenclaw decoying from pandemonia syfometry