clings like a sailor
to the sarcophagus
who's been lost at sea
for far too long
when we should have been flying
so for the time we were sad,
or tormented
by the dead dancing
at the altar
of whores
its confusing
all the passing
and the corpses lining up
trying to settle out
on the old score
baby, only you know
how hard it is
when we were blind.
b#
No comments:
Post a Comment