Grateful For Flesh

if veins pulsed with liquid gold we'd be lucky to last one night victims to pyrite hearted souls who'd suck us dry before first light- if eyes and tongues were made of gems they'd soon be plucked for prophet by bands of blind and greedy men leaving mimes chained to purple sockets if our arms and legs were made of ivory we'd be cornered then quickly quartered by hoards of desperados and poachers for the sake of filling godless dowries if souls were woven from emerald and hearts made of glowing rubies they'd pillage then refill with emptiness and echo the walk of the walking dead thank god testicles aren't made of pearls