Wall of sound when God spit me out
A bullet from inside his mouth, discarded
Like a bullet from inside His mouth, landed on my feet
I'm a cigarette left there, burning on concrete
It's all the same to me, sacred and discarded
Waiting on a boot to stomp me out from Heaven
I think I'll turn to ash filter and all
Safe in dusk and Palma leaves
Staring at the ceiling
Baptized
Fleeting
Severed
My will
Let the wind take me
Let the birds build their nests
Wherever it takes me is where I'll rest
Forehead on the window
Bass-rattled bones I don't use anymore
Dutch guts on the window sill
I don't open the door