This home has too many entrances
And not enough exits
I need to see a better youth in you
I need to feel a better life in your death.
Kind eyes have always worn you well
And you will undress your love all over my disease
How many summer long apathies will you endure?
Your eyes jut out at me and I weaken.
I see my girl tied to my little red wagon
Rusty wheeled and wobbly
You can barely see the love in me
How many falling stars did you count last night?
Pulled apart at the marrow
Sinew and threads torn
I will cut into you pure and lovely
You will sicken and stay that way.
Roll your eyes when you take a breath that long,
So I know when to fall into the back ground.
