Meet me at the meat love den, the place where once we dared not go.

Meet me at the orange room which now I fear to call my home.

How comfortable we’ve grown to be, surrounded in this misery;

This glass my last of ruby-red before I fall asleep.

Meet me at the meat love den, I cannot wait for you ere’longer;

the bleeding heart has woken and I cannot stem the haunting flow.

It pounds upon my ears and hands in quiet, mindful blows—

I need you, how I love you, how I beg you;

Don’t leave me.