Siren Lips

Buzz buzz sting
Cackle stacks
The iron vise that wraps your voice
A torch you carry and scream to
As if machines ever answered
To the lonesome call you sound

Strum strum fade
Maelstrom muse
Treble drips from your fingertips
The vision dries from hollow eyes
And you are left with but a noise
Are your dreams scaring you yet?

Sing sing crash
Never naught
What a cruel melody to match
Punk you ain’t nuthin’ like a saint
Just sell yourself while you still can
And raise a glass to “good enough.”