(no subject)

[cinitrom]

Hand me your hand,
let me look in your eyes
as my last chance to feel human
begins to vaporize.
Maybe it's the heat in here,
maybe it's the pressure.
You ought to head for the exits,
the sooner the better.

I am this great,
unstable,
mass of blood and foam,
and no one in her right mind
would make my home her home;
my heart's an autoclave.
My heart's an autoclave.

When I try to open up to you,
I get completely lost.
Houses swallowed by the earth,
windows thick with frost.
And I reach deep down within,
but the pathways twist and turn,
and there's no light anywhere
and nothing left to burn.

And I am this great,
unstable,
mass of blood and foam,
and no emotion that's worth having
could call my heart its home;
my heart's an autoclave.
My heart's an autoclave.

I dreamt that I was perched atop a throne of human skulls
on a cliff above the ocean,
howling wind and shrieking seagulls.
And the dream went on forever,
one single static frame.
Sometimes you want to go
where everybody knows your name.

I am this great,
unstable,
mass of blood and foam.
And no one in her right mind
would make her home my home.
My heart's an autoclave.
My heart's an autoclave.

autoclave, by the mountain goats