She’s standing in the puddle
where the streetlamp bleeds its yellow light
A fracture in the sidewalk and a splinter in the night
Her jaw is pulled back further than the tendons ought to go
A porcelain disaster in the lamplight’s dying glow
I’m walking through the gravel with a frantic heavy stride
While she drifts behind me like a ghost with nowhere else to hide
The grin is made of ivory and the hunger of the grave
A jagged white obsession that no prayer could ever save
The air is getting thinner as she closes up the space
I can see the wetness of the gums upon that face
I’m fumbling for the door keys with a hand that’s gone to sand
Watching as she reaches out a thin and clawed hand
The smile is all I see now it is filling up the frame
A total occupation of the memory and the name
It’s an anatomical betrayal it’s a rupture of the bone
Leaving me to face the grinning universe alone
The lock is stuck and the darkness is a heavy liquid weight
While the mouth begins to open like a cold and silver gate
I’m screaming at the ceiling but the sound is just a hiss
As I sink into the hollow of that wide and frantic kiss
The grin is the last thing that I’ll ever have to know
Before the industrial shadows finally start to grow
The Mouth of the Crescent
The Mouth of the Crescent