Muertos Vivos

I pour salt in your wounds and you don't even flinch I sharpen my nails to give you a pinch My pulse is undetectable, yours is even worse You're so dead, I can't move you, not even with a hearse And you know I'll wait for you in vain An excuse for a

Turn out the light And lay here and wait with half-closed eyes You would scare most with your presence It's your complexion if that's what it's called Opaque and white You float in the doorway, float in the night Your hands are ice, I would bet on it