Under cement skies
This relentless wind has blown away the sun
I am electricity dreaming
I am coughing leaves falling on the hospital floor
I am prepared for the fever journey
how many times have I died from the complications of loves fevers
They left me chained returning, again and again at night, to feast on my hummingbird heart
Even the ones that haven’t hunted, recognize the hunting pose
Winds of ash blow across my face
and in the great divide I hear singing
I hope that’s singing
from below the subway grate
It’s the final witching hour
Last call at the Russian Tea Room
Put it on my card
There are worse things outside tonight than Unpaid debt.
The unmanned ship is rising in the harbor with a cargo of rancid earth
I do not want to be a part of THAT story
It brings a cold light and the smell of burning wire between my ears
More whispers from the usual unreliable sources
I feel the return of my piss filthy friends
Stolen bottles and ancient wood benches carved with graffiti
The woman murmuring in that shuttered house where I broke the window
And we ran From the bottom of the lake
into the thunder of the cracking world
Heads bleached with Acid and wine
Now I wait for them to come again
I wait among the stones
In the wind between the mirrors
There goes the black rabbit
Between rows and rows and rows and rows of forgotten granite memories
With arms and wings and faded inscriptions reaching for the pestilence moon
I like it here, and I will Not go back where I came from
It’s Three AM
I’m ready
Please, Let it be Alice, that takes me through the glass
This relentless wind has blown away the sun
I am electricity dreaming
I am coughing leaves falling on the hospital floor
I am prepared for the fever journey
how many times have I died from the complications of loves fevers
They left me chained returning, again and again at night, to feast on my hummingbird heart
Even the ones that haven’t hunted, recognize the hunting pose
Winds of ash blow across my face
and in the great divide I hear singing
I hope that’s singing
from below the subway grate
It’s the final witching hour
Last call at the Russian Tea Room
Put it on my card
There are worse things outside tonight than Unpaid debt.
The unmanned ship is rising in the harbor with a cargo of rancid earth
I do not want to be a part of THAT story
It brings a cold light and the smell of burning wire between my ears
More whispers from the usual unreliable sources
I feel the return of my piss filthy friends
Stolen bottles and ancient wood benches carved with graffiti
The woman murmuring in that shuttered house where I broke the window
And we ran From the bottom of the lake
into the thunder of the cracking world
Heads bleached with Acid and wine
Now I wait for them to come again
I wait among the stones
In the wind between the mirrors
There goes the black rabbit
Between rows and rows and rows and rows of forgotten granite memories
With arms and wings and faded inscriptions reaching for the pestilence moon
I like it here, and I will Not go back where I came from
It’s Three AM
I’m ready
Please, Let it be Alice, that takes me through the glass
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