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Corpse of The Lily

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With the scent of corpse of the lily sloshed in decay
the leaves stir the bones of old hags on their knees
as crows peck at the eyes in the coffin’s managerie

down the throat of a broken saint, sung the taints
with broken fingers unraveling a cigarette
tasting the obsenity in the midnight hour

riding shotgun in the hearse choking on the phelgm
prying loose stitches from the lips of the twat
as johnny got his gun driping from the thighs

with the scent of corpse of the lily sloshed in decay
they came to measure carpet burns in the earth
as the worms sang for chowder

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