Analysis of Just Passing Through

Did you see the news last night?
There was another zombie attack
It was her fifteen minutes of fame
Now I want my fifteen minutes back
She left a trail of memories
And nasty scars upon my back
But I managed somehow to escape
With my brains all still intact

Sirens bring the caution tape
Drown vows of silence said
The pillowcase is warm and soaked
Somebody lost their head
I've known some superheroes
None of them wore capes
Sometimes my greatest enemy
Is the fear I can't escape

It's a pristine crime scene
Lit by the moon
Two to the heart
One to the head
It might look like midnight
But it's really high noon
In the middle of the night
Of the the living dead

You always look so good in red
In the darkness I concede
Makes me feel so warm all over
Come again to feel me bleed
Blood dries like rust upon your teeth
It must be time again to feed
Let me pull these stitches out for you
And open myself to your needs

Never one for self-reflection
Invisible in your own mirror
Close the blinds, shoot out the lights
Now I see you so much clearer
Help yourself to seconds, love
There's plenty to go around here
Don't mind me, I'm just passing through
Where fools and angels tread in fear

It's a pristine crime scene
Lit by the moon
Two to the heart
One to the head
It might look like midnight
But it's really high noon
In the middle of the night
Of the the living dead

I asked if I could see you
You showed up true to form
Left a bloody sacrifice
Resurrected yourself in the mourn
Why sit and curse the darkness
When you can light the house on fire?
Come, warm yourself by the moonlight
Feed to your heat's desire

A womb just like an open tomb
Spews forth its living dead reborn
But I forgive because I know
It's your only way of keeping warm
Now redemption draweth nigh, dear
Judgement comes, like ice, like fire
When dead again are living dead
Will you reconsider your desire?

It's a pristine crime scene
Lit by the moon
Two to the heart
One to the head
It might look like midnight
But it's really high noon
In the middle of the night
Of the the living dead

© John Kennan 2015