coal cliffs cold crest on oceans deeper than the storm
begging mercies on a fevered brow, desperate to get warm

clinging to the rocks like moss where shallow lichen grows
thin by hunger and stiff by pain, stacking markers row by row

pale as you, chameleon, searching onwards through the howl
sleepless circles sharpen your eyes as hunger makes the owl

we stamped out the steel a hundred times before we called it home
between the sex, blood, and the drink -- the only things we've known

passed thru a million pale hands, desperate for the quiet life
trading freedom for a dreamless sleep: sold as a husband or a wife

we're a peaceless pact, you see, and as much as you can take
you'll kill me with a loving stare much sooner than the wooden stake

as many pieces as we give out, twice as many will grow back
so many arms to act as puppeteers, so many eyes to fade to black

but one lesson engraved in flesh, cooled under leaden rains
half fixed by a hundred hands will make you less than whole again.