For the love, Iʼd fallen on
+
in the swampy August dawn
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what a mischief you would bring young darling!
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when the onus is not all your own
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when you're up for it before you've grown
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from the faun forever gone
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in the towers of your honeycomb
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I'd a tore your hair out just to climb back darling
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when you're filling out your only form
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can you tell that itʼs just ceremon'
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now you've added up to what you're from
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build your tether rain-out from your fragments...
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break the sailor's table on your sacrum...
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f*ck the fiercest fables, I'm with Hagen
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for the love, comes the burning young
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from the liver, sweating through your tongue
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well, youʼre standing on my sternum don't you climb down darling
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oh the sermons are the first to rest
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smoke on Sundays when youʼre drunk and dressed
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out the hollows where the swallow nests
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