by Graham Jong-Il

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A song about the strangest of gemstones.


With the hand that's laid upon one smooth shoulder,
his soft fingers scalpel another.
As the scars from those knives grow harder and older,
on the tip of his tongue are words for a lover.

Pity the fly trapped in shimmering amber
illuminated by the bleak winter sun;
a burnt yellow singed by the flame that commands her;
a dying grey fire that has only begun.

He plucks white feathers from the wings of an angel;
the force that taints, corrupts from within.
Darling, you know, I'm no Gabriel;
I'm abnormally attracted to sin.

Scarlet words diffuse through the room,
but you're deaf to my perfume.
No jasmine stems nor ambergris
can lift the curse of Jean-Baptiste.

The candles behind those opal eyes flicker;
I'm losing my mind as my blood's getting thicker.


released March 26, 2011
Music and lyrics by Graham Jong-Il

Cover art by this person here:




Graham Jong-Il Dublin, Ireland

Ukulele eroticist.

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