In her Black garden,
There’s a curious candlelight,
Whimsically burning bright.
An old lady giving head.
A newborn floating dead.
The bright blue ribbon in her hair,
Just didn’t seem to belong there.
I stood lonely, rotting there.
Can’t you see
I have complaints!
I’ve never claimed to
Be some saint!
I know you’re afraid,
So what else is new.
Don’t say her name,
She’s coming for you.
The silver sparkle on her face.
She said, ‘I lived life without a trace.’
I’m so Goddamn confused.
She split in two and said, ‘choose.’
She handed me a bucket of bluegill.
Then pretended to jump from a windowsill.
I watched her red lips turn gray,
As her death faded away.
What if I was to
Say to you,
I can take your
Hurt away—
Bury it, deep in
The earth,
Locked in a purple
Wooden box.
And all that I ask of you,
Is just, one little thing.
Never break my heart,
Never break it in vein.
In her black garden,
There’s a goblin laughing loud,
A spider infested shroud—
A twisted pumpkin patch
Some naked girl attached,
To a swinging hook above.
A carnival star in love
Caught in a quicksand flower bed.
A killer re-release of a rare solo post-punk LP from 1988 by the frontman of Taste of Decay and Garden of Pleasures. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 17, 2022