Screaming at Silent Movies

Baby on the operating table;
"Oh! Doctor! grab those jumper cables!
Get that adrenaline pumping 
unstable, unstable unstable..."
Someone better call the nurse!
This part's going to be the worst!
It's time to asphyxiate this dumb blonde and operate!

Oh no!
Doctors got a thing for blondes
And this one's got him really hot-
He took the scalpel,
Made the incision,
And said...

He said;
"You're the one I've always wanted,
Tiny limbs, and adult rated,
Anatomically exciting,
only slightly medicated."


Get fucked on the operating table,
"Oh doctor! grab those jumper cables!
Turn me on, sexual frustrations 
disabled, disabled, disabled..."

Better call the ICU!
Doctors got it in for you!
Call in the prescription!
It's time to asphyxiate this dumb blonde and operate!

Oh no!
Doctors got a thing for blondes
And this ones got him really hot-
He took the scalpel,
Made the incision,
And said...

He said;
"You're the one I've always wanted,
Tiny limbs and adult rated,
Anatomically exciting,
only slightly medicated"

DOCTOR!
You didn't call her back!
Bitch went to ER,
had a heart attack!
DOCTOR!
Call the ICU!
Bitch's got a scalpel,
got it in for you!

DOCTOR!
OH NO!

Doctor's Got A Thing For Blondes

She grinds her teeth in her sleep!
Credit card debt 
throat deep.
Has a couple of drinks,
takes some pills to sleep,
dials a doctor who listens to her sing.

A blind date at your favorite motel!
A blind fuck will soon be skeletal.
An empty pocket book,
with a knock-off attire,
and talk of the chandeliers,
were chande-liars...

Buy old bridesmaid dresses thrift!
Show up for dinner parties and ya drift...
Seduce old bones 
with lonely moans,
neon boosts through gas station telephones.

She gave head by the baseboard in the basement
to different guys with different faces.
Fucked each one in the same position-
turning up the static so that he couldn't listen...

Kick on your neon stilettos!
Scream like a- 
like a- like a- like a-
revolution!

Your broken bones tell tales of outlived
rainbow violence, and-
and- and- and-
po-po-llution!

A hooker screams fucked against the electric wall.
Staring at her cellphone number written in a bathroom stall-
"Call 301, asks for some fun,
but monthly rates aren't cheap, hun,
so bring your pocket book, and take a plunge."

A blind date with his wife's blindfold.
She out on business, and he's all alone.
An empty pocket book,
with a handful of black eyes,
he's into some freaky shit-
surprise, surprise... 

She gave head by the baseboard in the basement
to different guys with different faces.
Fucked each one in the same position-
turning up the static so that he couldn't listen...

Kick on your neon stilettos!
Scream like a- 
like a- like a- like a-
revolution!

Your broken bones tell tales of outlived
rainbow violence, and-
and- and- and-
po-po-llution!

Look at the Prom Queen now-
20 years later, on her knees,
giving head to the Burger King.
No one will save you now-
not even your fucking homecoming. 





Kick On Your Neon Stilettos

Get Low [Lil Jon Cover]

I don't mean to impose,
but take off your clothes,
'cuz baby you're indisposed-
we'll leave you exposed,

cuz you know it's a dire
emergency,
held on by wires,
with the urgency
to get you into surgery
in a big hurry,
but this operator's so hot…

Hey, operator
What's your number sweetheart?
You have such a hot voice,
bet you're pretty like a postcard.
For someone who works the phones,
you're pretty fuckin' unsociable.

Let me help you undress,
'cuz you know I'm a mess,
and this girl I've got's disposable.

Operator!
Won't you please tell me,
can you keep a secret?
My girlfriend's lying here naked…

Operator!
Won't you please tell me?
I think I'm going crazy,
She's lying here sedated…

Operator! Operator!
You're the one I want-
I wanna know do you-
do you wanna come over?

Operator! Operator!
Think I might have a
crush on you.
We can dispose of her.

Oh, baby, (???)
but you look so hot
when you're not able to walk,
helpless, and distraught.

Oh, wait, you can't breathe?
Here, take these, they'll help you recover,
and get up off you knees.
Oops, wrong bottle…
I know what to do!

Hey, Operator!
Fuck this blonde,
give me the 411 on you!

Hey, operator
What's your number sweetheart?
You have such a hot voice,
bet you're pretty like a postcard.
For someone who works the phones,
you're pretty fuckin' unsociable.

Let me help you undress,
'cuz you know I'm a mess,
and this girl I've got's disposable.

Operator!
Won't you please tell me,
can you keep a secret?
My girlfriend's lying here naked…

Operator!
Won't you please tell me?
I think I'm going crazy,
She's lying here sedated…

Operator! Operator!
You're the one I want-
I wanna know do you-
do you wanna come over?

Operator! Operator!
Think I might have a
crush on you.
We can dispose of her.

Oh, baby, (???)
but you look so hot
when you're not able to walk,
helpless, and distraught.

Oh, wait, you can't breathe?
Here, take these, they'll help you recover,
and get up off you knees.
Oops, wrong bottle…
I know what to do!

Hey, Operator!
Fuck this blonde,
give me the 411 on you!

Operator Operator

White Beach

David Is Dead

Sex In The SickSixSix Bed

Be still!
I painted you dead!
You're a canvas corpse 
sewn by paint to your bed.

Bursting from a silk screen,
like a dream,
picking your teeth 
with pictures of
piano keys.

You're my muse!
But only half alive!
Unable to breathe,
hollow inside.

A waste of space, a loss of paint-
No lungs, no blood,
get a donor today.

(She walked out of the painting,
unable to breathe.
Cried "I need, I need, I need…"

Collapsed on the living room floor-
a painting 
no more...)

PANT!
PAINT!
Canvas corpse-
You can breathe, you can sing, you can do anything.

PAINT!
Canvas corpse by my side like Adam and God divide

PAINT!
Canvas corpse I'll paint you a heart,
Just wait!

PANT!
PAINT!
CANVAS CORPSE!
PAINT! PAINT! PAINT! 


I held her brittle hand
made of crumpled canvas-
dried, and lifeless.

Through her eyes
she taught me to see
all the apple tress,
and the bumble bees.

We flew kites
at midnight,
and she began fading with the sunrise…

I said "I'm sorry,"
She said "It's okay,
you didn't give me the time of day anyway."

PANT!
PAINT!
Canvas corpse-
You can breathe, you can sing, you can do anything.

PAINT!
Canvas corpse by my side like Adam and God divide

PAINT!
Canvas corpse I'll paint you a heart,
Just wait!

PANT!
PAINT!
CANVAS CORPSE!
PAINT! PAINT! PAINT! 

Canvas Corpse

You're beautiful, baby! 
Like a burn victim in a tanning bed. 
Your hips are razor-sharp, 
and your lips are made of lead. 

Your hair's made of wires- 
Eyes begging to be buried 
in attention from the photo shoots 
for your obituary. 

Pose for the shot! 
Make their blood clot! 
Metronome at 201-
you make my heart stop. 
You're everything I've always wanted-
maybe a little bit more. 
Selling dreams 
behind smoke screens, 
begging for an encore. 

You're everything I've always wanted- 
maybe a little bit more...
XS, highlighted hair, size twenty-four! 
High heels and short skirts, 
breaking jaws so fashionably noir- 
You're just the type of girl I've been looking for... 

She eats up everything you tell her- 
as if it's going to rot tomorrow. 
She cracked open across the ceiling, 
screaming every single word she swallowed.
Numbers don't appeal to her! 
Faces just aren't real to her. 
In a world where numbers have no meaning, 
she's a copy of what she's dreaming. 

Oh girl you're a wreck, 
superiority complex 
won't save you from the casket 
waiting in his bed. 
No need to perplex 
the situation, and vex 
his plan to have his way- 
you've really made a mess. 

Don't say no, its your obituary. 
Tears wont keep away the cemetery. 
Your screams on mute, 
your mouth sewn shut. 
Record's scratched on 
"I really fucked up." 
He pushes harder, 
you begin to sweat. 
Faster, faster, out of breath. 
You scream "I'm not that type of girl!" 
he says, 
"You fucking look like it!" 

Don't come on to me. 
Where's your personality? 
Your own originality? 
Your individuality? 
Stop hanging all over me 
like every other girl 
I've seen this happen to before... 

You danced yourself right 
into the casket! 
I've got you figured out,  
there's nothing left to ration! 
You only dress like that 
for the fashion, 
the real you was crumpled up 
and thrown in a wicker basket...

You're everything I've always wanted- 
maybe a little bit more! 
XS, highlighted hair, size twenty-four! 
High heels and short skirts, 
breaking jaws so fashionably noir! 
You're just the type of girl I've been looking for... 

She eats up everything you tell her- 
as if it's going to rot tomorrow. 
She cracked open across the ceiling, 
screaming every single word she swallowed .
Numbers don't appeal to her! 
Faces just aren't real to her. 
In a world where numbers have no meaning, 
she's a copy of what she's dreaming. 
 

Into The Casket

This page is a memorial dedicated to Dominic Martin of GRWH, run by friends and fans hoping to preserve his memory, and share his art with the world in hopes that it will impact others the way it has impacted us.

girlsRISEwithHEAT

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