I got Bluebeard's Tiger
tucked under my
bed
and a million clowns in velvet
gowns waltzing on the iris of
a dead man's eye, someone
she used to know, but never
told because her story's
getting old and she
found those grey hairs yesterday.

L said that God
was an old woman who always wore
pink, and lost her baby eons ago, a
humanity want's a part of divinity
has been paying ever since.
Because it's too much to give
and continue to live so she's
gotta find a way to survive,
and sometimes L says that
God is dead,
Between us and Beenie
she can't decide, but I never
saw a grave so I never
asked why

I've got Bluebeard's Tiger
and red licoricie dreams, for a shot
at salvation in a bottle of schemes
twelve gold fish swimming through
my veins, where the blood used to be
(I told ya I've changed). And maybe,
I said you should shut your mouth,
and she would shut her mouth, (but
there's something
in it).

And guilt is the weapon
that's worse than a bullet to the stomach
it's the weapon you pull on yourself
That's how Sylvia Plath, Promethius
and I began to talk about suicide
I've got Bluebeard's Tiger
I've been touched by God
I've got Bluebeard's Tiger
I'm in a room without a door
wondering how I got in here,
wondering how I'll get
out.