In my den On the outskirts of density The fools use miles to keep the wise at bay And they think they're safe But for She And they won't speak Her name Like a bad joke the horns sound Hits like a dull cloud As some poor son of a "don't know how" sets out And the scent's out Slash Dust They should have learned If there was ever a reason not to stay here alone Oh, and it's like a bad itch Maybe She could be What I need So let's see I gathered up all my holy books O, my holy ink and paper I burned them all Stripped naked and I set out And the scent's out I am hunger, I am thirst Where I bite, I hold till I die I can fast a hundred years I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze I can drink a river of blood and not burst Now tell me, who comes to disturb me? She spoke with a voice colder than a grave But sure as stone, I held my gaze I said I can make an inch a mile I am the outcast, the truth-lie I paint with ghosts I am any and every meaning in life I am black blood I am deeper than dying I am not here to conquer I am here The kill at her breath was a perfume There was no denying that we belonged to each other So what do gods do on equal ground? They don't suffer any will but their own And so they went forth into stories told