Licking my Lips Over a Ship in a Bottle and Cold Copper

Leaking meaning from the mouth. Drooling all over your sacred documents. Melt down your fine metals and cast a spell on my enemies. You know you want to lick my skin and burn your taste buds off. Well take your tongue off me and help me blind my conscious front-man! I'm trying to keep it like a dream and drift into something new. I'll evaporate as soon as I feel too dense. The common language and actions of my society make me want to catch bullets. Formal language or street slang, eventually it boils down into common word courtesies. I'm into using words to paint my friends faces and explore their brains. If I tell you I want to burn a building to make you laugh, I'll learn a lot about you based on your reaction. So tear off my skin and get out your mortar and pestle, cause I'm passion potion. I'm the prescribed pills that you don't want to abuse. I'm also the Molotov cocktail that burns the brush out of your way. I'm not my words or what they mean, but you'll know me from the psychobabble I toss your way. So you're the type to kiss my friends when I'm not looking? Good, they need love too and your words are sexier than those big soft lips. You could be burning bibles with house fires or praying to dark evil gods and I'll still need a twist.

Oh the sculptures on my casket.