Venus Of Prose de Marty Willson-Piper

Years of bliss
Fill your head
Trapped in a jar
Your eyes are dead

Rich in words
You're the Venus of prose
As beauty erodes
She says No
He says

Accolade slips
Lost your sway
Suffocate
In an aura of jade
Who can win

In the reign of a week
I die in your sleep
She says No
He says

Open you up
Peer on through
Taste of dust
Where nothing's true
Listen with your eyes

Face your deceit

You're dead on your feet

She says No

He says