Dark Meat
Angel of Meth
I's so drunk when I left the placeThe walls were lined with skullsGorges ached to take my formShadows were busy being born--Being born beneath my beard beneath the gullsIt was in November When I sat and wrote her a letterRoughshod and lovely that told her -- It was in autumn that I wrote her the letterThat by winter I regrettedOh, meIt was late when I left the placeLight lived in the trees --Sick sun thrown upward by a seaNever again would she hear from meIt's hard to sing when you ain't breathingYawning chasm tempting my legsAs I walked onward, out of townI just looked toward the rising sunNever to see her again
From Letras Mania