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Oh hair of dread, the time is here. |
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Thirty-three, the sheep draw near with eyes so keen they cannot hear all the lies that buy their ears. |
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Oh, horsepants, tobacco chest. |
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Oh, sex ghost. |
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Oh, nape of neck. |
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The tears are crashing on her breasts. |
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The burning bed is out again. |
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If it's sad, you know it' true. |
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God is glad on bluer moons. |
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When your room is all you do, it comes to you. |
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Oh, my rank ink instrument, row my boat towards abstinence with thoughts as long as cigarettes. |
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Snowed in lips and cross protect. |
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Oh, that birdlike appetite. |
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Lo, passive fasts make us contrite? |
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On silken highways of the night, the spiders crawl my candlelight, where the sun shines in space. |
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God is dumb, god is great. |
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But does he love us all the same? |
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Are we OK? |
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And I cried out your name because |
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I loved the sound it made and because |
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I couldn't wait to see your face. |
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And nothing ever was the same. |
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And the stars say, "Look into my eyes." |
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But I can't change if it's only in my mind. |
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And I love you but |
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I don't have the right. |
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And I wanted you so bad tonight. |
