Last July I bought some opium incense
Didn't know that that was once your brand
Wintertime I spark it to erase
The scent of your sadistic man

You healed your bruises with cigarettes
And drove for hours wasted in the fog
To be where other women wouldn't call you things
Where men wouldn't sniff you out like dogs

If only just once you'd told me
You don't like men who treat you like dirt
Who slip you drugs intended to seduce
Which travel deep and cause you hurt

I wonder what would happen if
You learned to speak of your contempt
Instead you celebrate your face
By lending it to each of them

The redneck in me wants to prove
The college boy is scared to move
The homemaker has quit his job
The nihilist has found a god

A carpenter who takes an axe
A moth who burrows into wax
A chain between you and the ape
The missing link was Joan the Saint

I think you are the girl
Who sees a quarter inch through everything
Sees bodies underneath their clothes
No faces, only peeled bones

Your father was the artist
Who took pictures every day of you
And made a stop motion film
That shows you turning into him

I wonder how the pharaoh knew
He had to save himself for you
And when I got to take his place
I praise the years that burned his face