Butcher Boy
Profit In Your Poetry
Chime, chime, chime, you chime like a melodyso comfortably lashed to the sleeveso settled into the rhymeSo I can see the detail so beautifullythe snow and the crane and the treeyour eyes reflecting my eyesI think I understand why you make doso secretly I paint the mirrors blueI can see you sleep and see you bleedand I can see the profit in your poetryShine, shine, shine with each Ayrshire syllableinitially lashed to the wallthen written into the rhymeBut I can see the details are killing methe dust on the crockerythe uselessness of the rideI think I understand why you make doI'm falling in a world that dotes on youwhere I can see you sleep and see you bleedbut there's no need for pity or for parityI think I understand why you make doand I refuse to turn my back on youI have seen you sleep and seen you bleedbut don't let this be your only memory of
From Letras Mania