my lips are blue
parted just enough to whisper through
don't misconstrue this,
or kisses-kisses coochie-coo this
no don't be a necrophiliac
my skin's the pale green of verdigris and celeriac
i'm at perigee when you hear me snap
just carry me to the back
and bury me in a sack
(a potato sack)
yeah, i know they know that
and they know that I know they know
so they know it might go waco, pray it don't
like pandemic kids stand by each other's beds
and truth fucks beauty with her hands tied above her head
one cut the other bled
and now invention's forgetting everything his mother said
oh shit, that's another one dead
summer hung it's head and I succumbed to where the drummer led
just keep me dumb and fed and I will gladly come to bed
if i'm numb and all thumbs just feed me crumbs and rum instead
and bleed me till I'm running red
then leave me here to mumble as I crumble into nothingness
and i know every inch of this here ceiling
i missed this giddy restless kiddy christmas morning feeling
and I don't see the need for kneeling wearing mourning veils
cause as I'm turning pale hurting and frail
I find it more and more appealing
(i don't need your healing touch i'm feeling much much better every day)
it's embarrassing to see you pray
so I am leaving soon but not today
and maybe not tomorrow but it can't be far away
so trade your sorrow in for borrowed joy and patchwork satisfaction
mine's the winning faction and in fact I'm still missing in action
losing traction moving past the point of no return and oozing passion
i knew two before me one that burrowed one that burned
now one's spinning in his grave and one's a cyclone in his urn
i won't be resurrecting
won't be jesus christing, phoenix rising
me and mine is feeling fine it's you who's stuck and still alive