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A recorded reading of “Black Lace Apostles”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Candles hiss in the club’s back room, Black lace shoulders cut through gloom. You bless the crowd with a sideways grin— I kneel for touch; we both cave in. Your halo’s wired to a sparking chain; Every blink rains metal rain. Black lace apostles, dancing mean— Holy trouble, gasoline. Say my name then say “stay clean”; Black lace apostles, smell of quinine. Knife-edge cheekbones, choir of smoke; You read my ribs like a private joke. I flinch, you soften: “It’s only art.” You tuck a plaster over my heart. You write commandments on my skin— Ten small cuts; I let you in. Black lace apostles, dancing mean— Holy trouble, gasoline. Say my name and make me breathe; Black lace apostles, take the lead. Spin me. Cut me. Black lace apostles, dancing mean— Light the altar, kerosene. Speak devotion—salt and sting; Black lace apostles, rule the scene.
Lyrics
Candles hiss in the club’s back room Black lace shoulders cut through gloom You bless the crowd with a sideways grin I kneel for touch, absolving sin Your halo’s wired to the mains Every blink throws silver rain Black lace apostles, dancing mean Holy trouble, gasoline Say my name and make me bleed Black lace apostles, take the lead Knife‑edge cheekbones, choir of smoke You read my ribs like a dirty joke Faith like leather, tight and brave I trade my pulse to be your slave You write commandments on my skin Ten small cuts, I let you in Black lace apostles, dancing mean Holy trouble, gasoline Say my name and make me bleed Black lace apostles, take the lead Spin me Cut me Black lace apostles, dancing mean Light the altar, kerosene Speak devotion, make it scream Black lace apostles, rule the scene
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