Clouds like hair hide the moon And as you part the hair I'm doomed Under her pale light I roam Not knowin if I had a home Not knowin where it is I'm from Not knowin where from I have come The scent of the one for which I'm hopin The smell of the soil that I'd torn open From the scratch and scrabble of my lopin The pounding blood in my brain My eyes like two mean yellow mirrors Reflectin as I'm gettin nearer The branches tearing at my fur As I am closing in on her O tell me can you feel it dear My panting hot against your ear With thirsty teeth and aching jaws Do evil deeds with greedy claws The heady air of blood and copper Is urging me to go and top her To bear my teeth and rip apart To sink my fangs into your heart Now taking sniffs, now taking sips Now with your entrails on my lips I am your beast, you are my feast I am your beast, you are my feast I am your beast, you are my feast
Smokey Edmonton, Alberta
Nickelas Smokey Johnson is a musician and multidisciplinary artist from Alberta, Canada. Drawing from western folk traditions and the avant garde, he creates a kind of gothic country.
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