The Sphinx Has a Bruise the Size of a Coffin On Her Face

Siaara Freeman - Non-Music, Poetry (Literature)
The Sphinx Has a Bruise the Size of a Coffin On Her Face
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Lyrics
The answer to the riddle is Who is next. That is also the question. Now answer & come correct or enter her mouth like a sacrifice, it is not your blood she wants, she has long since forgot what blood does the body, it is your honeyed heart, your tinned blush, your whimpering pride she will swallow. Do you know what is not a dying art form? Architecture. It's alive and eating good & bad, wiping away whatever is not remembered from its mouth. It's a caressing pain, a trumpeted slap into the belly of a beast you thought you imprisoned. Into the gut of the lion -- (you pretended you did not see the lions face) (you pretended it was not a black woman's face) (you said it wasn't human) (you said it wasn't made by humans) (then you pretended you did not know it was not me) So now the riddle gos: If I don't eat you, how can I prove I was here?
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Credits
- Writers
- Siaara Freeman