FRED: the alive/ mortal groom.
"Some people are white
while others are black.
Some women are thin and some are really fat.
People are different,
to that we agree,
well, my bride is dead,
as dead as can be.
I knew that right from day one
she never, ever tried to hide that fact,
and I loved her even for that.
My bride is dead...and so what?
Her lips are cold,
I can see through her back.
She can't breathe, she can't eat
but her kiss is sweet
and so is her heart.
Being with her makes me feel so secure,'cause I know I can never endure, black, wet death tearing us apart.
Her being already deceased,
means my hidden fear is at rest,
my sweet bride is Oh so dead,
death is conquered,
I have deceived death!
"The people around me are over- upset,
they can't perceive the major advantages of a bride that is dead.
No food nor drink, no ambitions
within,
subtleness, silence, obedience,
no desire for luxuries nor flirting from other men,
who in the world would desire a bride that
her ribs are hard to hide...
her ribs are hard to hide...
"They say: Fred! The woman is dead,
worms come crawling out of the crown
of her head!
I say: Hold you tongue, you ignorant men,
she's more alive and caring than all of your
brides together when we are alone in bed!
To that they frowned, everybody knows
the turn-on of bedding the undead!
Today the church bells ring for Berenice and I,
my joy I cannot hide,
and those of you who ask why,
I tell you this,
the dead cannot lie and are not afraid to die!
To that they frowned, everybody knows
the turn-on of bedding the undead!
Today the church bells ring for Berenice and I,
my joy I cannot hide,
and those of you who ask why,
I tell you this,
the dead cannot lie and are not afraid to die!
BERENICE: the rotting / dead bride.
"I feel my insides rot,
but it's not my fault,
I wasn't meant to die,
and dead people can never lie.
He says death on me looks eerie and sweet,
he says he loves the gaping holes on my skin,
the worms racing around my heart,
he says he loves me even for that.
Being with him makes me forget,
the torture of knowing that I am all dead.
The darkeness, the distance,
the fear, the disgust,
the craving for darkness
and the blood lust.
I want to forget
that my breath is all spent,
I want to let go of the dread, the despair,
that I will be labelled as a worthless undead.
This life feels like the echo
of my life that was,
the colours are dimmed,
the sounds are all hushed.
Tastes and textures
were left in the grave,
I give him a soft laugh,
and pretend it's the same.
Dead....Dread............Fred, tells me it's fine,
he will love me so, till the end of his time.
With flowers and perfumes, lace and satin scarves,
he covers my holes and the constant smell of dust.
He says I have jumped out of a poem of Poe,
worthy only for Vampire Lestat,
he buys me raw meat, and liver and heart,
I wish I could cry, Oh how I wish I could do that..."
I look at myself in the mirror,
this wedding dress is a bit large.
I turn around and hear the rib snap,
it tears the white silk,
the worms pour out like sour milk,
and breathe fresh air at last.
I look at myself in the mirror,
this wedding dress is a bit large.
I turn around and hear the rib snap,
it tears the white silk,
the worms pour out like sour milk,
and breathe fresh air at last.
(photo by SamuraiChopStick)
