November 12, 2015


Lists of swinging fists nobody saw
That were slicing through air at the foot of a stair of a bar
Make beds of busted heads pillowed and puffed
In some quiet corner of the emergency ward they left us
So we always demurred with an ill-advised word from some enemy's ill-equipt tongue
Sizzled and burned at our backs so we learned to dodge
Guess we lost

Staring down the cliffs with my crew-cut
I had turned twenty-three and believed I was dangerous
Lists of swinging hips down in the clubs
They were holding a swerve, I am perfectly sure, for us
And a photograph says what a photograph is, holy shit were our faces so young

All pissed and thin-lipped as you tippled and tripped, it was fun

Guess we're done

Lies and flying flies supping up blood
We fall down, slidding down, slipping, slamming the ground 'cause we're fucked
And so I went down to the mystic,

All headached and heartsick, and lying with the beggars and bums
Paid his price and he slurred,

"My advice is to turn and to run."
Well I guess we're dumb

So let's just gather 'round partygoers, that's if you're still living
And I wasted, washed up, watered down, and not dead, and death wishing
And those trumpets won't blow, the professional driver got lost
And all of those rulers and priests, from the highest to least, have been lined up and shot
How I pray and I hope 'till it leads to some moment where all of it just blew apart
How I wished and I scheemed, and from whisper to scream,
How I wanted to just hold your heart
In the palm of my hand and just watch as it slows, and it,
Call the cops
It was star-crossed, we'd gone numb
Wasn't the last fun?
Well I guess we lost
I guess we're done

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