Number 9 in the Moonlight

(Deeper Ultraviolence rewrite – more bruise, more worship, more ruin)[Verse 1]

I was your Number 9 under the stadium's blinding white,

Crashing helmets, cracking ribs through the halogen night.

You in that tiny skirt, pleats torn at the seam,

Blonde hair matted with sweat, catching the floodlight gleam.

Rose tattoo leaking crimson down your silk white top,

Breasts heaving like offerings where the faithful come to stop.

We were young gods bleeding out, vicious, holy, blind,

Backseat Chevy crucifixion, your wrists marked like mine.[Pre-Chorus]

Hot July mouth on mine, double Ds crushed to shattered bone,

He hit me once, it felt like heaven carved in stone.

Getting high, high, high on the copper of your yes,

Sirens wailing closer, violins tearing through my chest.[Chorus]

Do you still dream of me in the moonlight's razor glow?

Number 9 fading on the turf we used to own.

Will you wait in the bleachers when the crowd turns to ghosts,

Mystery lover, spectatress, choking on my throes?

High, high, high… we were lost in the slaughter glow,

Young and shattered, baby, did you ever let me go?

Ultraviolence… give me all that ultraviolence.[Verse 2]

Tumbling through wildflowers, thorns ripping skin to red,

Petals sticking to the blood where our bodies bled.

Game room shadows, bassline slow and sick and deep,

Quiet kisses turning feral, teeth sinking where you weep.

Your silk body begging, dragging me into the black,

Blonde waves crashing brutal, no way we’re coming back.

We were bedeviled angels under a slaughterhouse moon,

Getting high, high, high, carved up way too soon.[Pre-Chorus]

Moonlit possession, wilted roses in your tangled hair,

Do you still taste the iron in the midnight air?

He hurt me, but it felt like true love’s poisoned prayer.[Chorus]

Do you still dream of me in the moonlight's cruel glow?

Number 9 fading on the field we used to know.

Will you wait in the bleachers when the fame rots to dust,

Mystery girl in the skirt, lighting matches in the rust?

High, high, high… we were burning down the night,

Lovers soaked in shadows, painted black and white.

Ultraviolence… I can hear the sirens, sirens.[Bridge]

Sometimes I catch your ghost in the rearview's splintered glass,

Sport skirt fluttering like funeral flags from the past.

Was it real or just the fever we chased with broken glass?

Number 9 forever scarred where your secret bleeds last.

Tell me, baby, do the flowers still bloom where we tore each other apart?

Or did the mystery pull you bleeding straight into the dark?[Final Chorus / Outro]

Do you still love me when the stadium's empty, cold, and dead?

Number 9 no longer young, no longer whole, just red.

High, high, high… fading into black and blue and black,

Mystery spectatress, was it ever really coming back?

He hit me and it felt like a kiss…

He hurt me and it felt like true love…

Ultraviolence… ultraviolence…

(whispers, fading) Number 9… number 9… broken.

Gone.