Dig me clean grave

My mouth will squeeze
Red blood of a beet
Onto your scalp
When you yell for my help.

I'll be sitting naked
On my favorite arm chair
And your breath will float over
To sleep in my ear.

We will think of the years
Swiftly going by,
Like the snap of your fingers
Or a galloping deer.

Milking the udders
Of a broken clock.
The pendulum swings
But the time has stopped.

Can you keep it like that?
Can you keep it like that?

Can you stitch a patch of lace onto my back?
To cover my scars,
To shield a scratch
 
Left on my skin during a vengeful attack.

It was long ago,
But the marks do remain.
They are ugly and deep.
They are pink rubber stains.

Help me wash them away.
Help me wash them away.

Put your hands on the soap
And dig me a clean grave;
Where I can comfortably lay.