Pretty Little Kate

'Twas on the day her mother died that something hidden deep inside

Would alter everything that had been pretty little Kate

No more then was the blonde haired girl, who was her mothers world

She'd transformed into black to match the colour of her hate 

At night she'd take a razor blade and grip with fingers good and tight

And drag it over tender skin upon concealed arms

It wasn't pain she sort but rather anything that eased her thoughts

And blood was what it took to keep her tortured feelings calm

The first cut wasn't deep enough, she pressed a little harder 

But not enough to chip the bone or nerves to aggravate 

When the blood came pouring it released the inner demons 

That dwelled inside the complex world of pretty little Kate

The bloody cross upon her, reminded her of Sunday's 

She slashed again across the cross, so crossing out the cross

The razor blade fell to the floor, the blood began to flow some more

And she decided that enough was spilled to compensate her loss

Every night would be the same; she'd walk the dirty darker streets

Where men would come with money and to spread unknown disease 

She'd risk her life in alleyways with strangers looking down on her

Many times she'd thought to bite whist down upon her knees

On her journey home where she would walk the streets alone 

The hours of her painful day would always finish late

No one waited home for her and no one even cared 

As she was not the girl who once was known as pretty little Kate

But not enough to chip the bone or wrongly amputate

When the blood came pouring it released the inner demons 

That dwelled inside the complex world of pretty little Kate

The bloody cross upon her, reminded her of Sunday's 

She slashed again across the cross, so crossing out the cross

The razor blade fell to the floor, the blood began to flow some more

And she decided that enough was spilled to compensate her loss

Every night would be the same; she'd walk the dirty darker streets

Where men would come with money and to spread unknown disease 

She'd risk her life in alleyways with strangers looking down on her

Many times she'd thought to bite whist down upon her knees

On her journey home where she would walk the streets alone 

The hours of her painful day would always finish late

No one waited home for her and no one even cared 

As she was not the girl who once was known as pretty little Kate

An Alternative Ending

She walked across the floor towards the freedom of the door 

With flashbacks of his face before she'd hit him on the head

Upon the floor the blood had dried, no sorrow, she'd not even cried

In fact she gave a smile when she had seen the bastard dead

She breathed in stake cigarettes; stubbed out in an ashtray 

Reminding her of breath that he had spat out in her face

Her chosen weapon by his side, his skull with which it did collide

Was now a simple iron that she put back in its place

She looked at him a moment and she tried hard to remember 

So long ago she'd loved this vile thing upon the floor

The man who lay there quite with no threats to steal her confidence 

Would not now hold her back as she walked freely out the door

An Ending

She moved just like a glazier set adrift on freezing water

She had much to tell and yet no words came dripping from her tongue 

It seemed her heart had melted, 'though until this very moment

She was not prepared to live a life where she did not belong 

I stood before her, smiled, as if her tears had never mattered 

Standing on the drops that soaked the linoleum floor 

I built a barricade of sorts, my body was a wall

In which it's structure stood between her and the freedom of the door

I took her by the wrist, I felt her tremble and resist

Before I held her hand upon my heart so she could feel my fear

I found it hard to breathe but found it harder to believe 

That we had lived so long within this atmosphere  

I longed for her to kiss me but her head just turned away

As though I wasn't even worthy anymore 

This barricade fell easily with just a single glance 

I moved aside and sadly watched her as she flowed out of the door

Crimson Leaves

I came across a body that was lying in a forest

A woman here abandoned on a bed of Crimson leaves

I wondered what her name was, she was morbidly attractive 

I looked at her more closely as I got down on my knees 

Her lips were red as petals and her skin as white as cotton

Her vacant eyes more bluer than the autumn sky above

I knew it seemed a little wrong, I hung my head in shame 

But from the moment that I saw her I was hopelessly in love

I wiped the dirt that clung to her, untangled vines from raven hair

And dressed her in the fallen leaves that covered up the ground

I whispered her a sad lament and begged her soul to answer me

The wind became her voice and was the only eery sound

I thought I heard her singing and imagined her before me

Dancing just as freely as the spiralling autumn leaves

I never knew her name but she reminded me of winter

Underneath the pointing fingers of the old forgotten trees 

The Death Game

Suicide taunts me and calls me its way It's a game it likes playing at least once a day The voices tell me that I have to be strong To live with my troubles has always been wrong Im told that my life was designed insecure That all those who drain me will always want more I listen a while and then contemplate death Inhaling the filth and then holding my breath I hear them all laugh when I panic and cry As nobody cares if I live or I die The voices return and they won't go away... So maybe they'll tempt me one day

Painted Smile

Painted Smile 

I gazed into her deep pool eyes, she stared back into mine

A chill then raged upon my back and shivers froze my spine

I heard the words she said aloud, believed them to be true

They unlocked free the beast in me to do the things he'd do

I took her tightly by the throat and wound my grieving grip

I noticed blood from biting teeth had dribbled from her lip

I kissed her for the last time and we fell against the door

A moment spent in passion 'til collapsing on the floor

Her eyes lay still and lifeless... Like in negatives of old

I held her in my trembling arms, her flesh it felt so cold

It's then I let a cry out... A kind of agonising squeal 

A call that some might pity if my pain they came to feel

Then in a moment mortified I stood back on my feet

I pulled a stool beside her, sat my arse down on the seat

Unsure of what had happened, I calmed myself and thought awhile

I took a lipstick from her purse and painted her a smile

I sat in morbid silence then was woken by a bell

Perhaps it was the demon who would drag me into hell

I covered up my ringing ears...

Dried off my fallen sticky tears...

I wondered how I'd cope inside for many, many years

A bang upon the barricade would shake my bones inside

I looked into the beady eye that lets you see outside

Behind the peeling painted door I spied an ageing priest  

His hair as black as asphalt, combed back flat and highly greased

I asked him what he wanted... He held high a silver cross

Said, he had come to pray for me and comfort at my loss

I opened up the door to him and let the preacher in

He gazed at my predicament... Then stepped over my sin

He mumbled through some passages from script I did not know

Then spoke about the hellish place where I was sure to go

I said I'd never leave her, and as I bowed my head and cried

He stabbed me with his crucifix, blood spilled out from my side

My dying breath was awful cold...

My soul had been already sold

I held a hand toward my judge, who looked at me and grinned

He vanished right before me like the freezing winter wind

I looked upon the girl...

Who grinned her ruby painted smile

I tried to say "I love you" but those words now tasted vile

I guess she had the last laugh as I lay there on the floor 

The crooked smile upon her face the last thing that I saw

The Bleeding House

The Bleeding House 

I'd walked for days through rain and mud, the cold slowed down my freezing blood, the bully wind did blow me where no one should ever go

It pushed me to the bleeding house... The bleeding house perched on a hill... A place that never warmed a clinging chill

I'd walked a many mile that day and needed somewhere dry to lay, my weary feet had come a long, long way

I opened up the creaking door that sounded like a ripping saw, and entered anyhow or come what may

Cobwebs from another time, abandoned many years ago, were swaying from the ceilings to and fro 

I tiptoed on the crimson floor, I pulled the collar of my coat, to warm the cold that gathered round my throat

I climbed upon a table top and pushed aside the rusty knives, the tools that butcher Pete had used to take so many lives

Beside the many chopping tools... My eyes began to close... The stench of death assaulted me and punched me in the nose

It wasn't long 'til slumber came, I dreamed about the driving rain and of the bleeding house where I did lay

And in the dream I realised that this was not a resting place, and not the place where most would choose to stay

As long ago this very room became each victims lonely tomb, they'd screamed for help but no one heard them shout

They tried and cried and prayed but died and butcher Pete was not the kind of landlord who would ever let them out

This man who wore a twisted grin, would find a house and then break in and steal people from their very homes

He'd watch them in their cozy beds, decide which knife he'd need to separate the fleshy meat from lazy bones

He'd drag them to the bleeding house no mercy for his captives... No sorrow for the dead was ever shown

In segments under floor boards were the bodies of the victims in the house perched on a hill where spirits groan

This room of doom contained their gloom until the falling of the moon...

By morning every ghoul had disappeared 

As if the darkness hid them from the warming of the sun...

As if the sun was something to be feared

I woke abruptly in the dark, I struck a match that caused a spark that set alight the cobwebs overhead

Above me was the face of butcher Pete who wore a twisted grin just like the legend said 

I never did get out alive although I tried my best to fight, this house upon the hill became my tomb

And in the darkness of the night I walk with other spirits on the blood soaked wooden floorboards of the room 

We wait until the moonlight glows and listen as the cold wind blows

To warn away who ever comes along

A traveller who has walked the path, that all inside were dragged upon, the very path that I had chosen wrong

We try to scare them all away but those that do decide to stay, will never leave the door in which they came

As butcher Pete will use his rusty instruments to carve upon their chests the landlords name