|
I part the curtains of your hair |
|
And all the light of the sun floods the room |
|
Poured from your sleepy stare |
|
Two seconds each morning without fail |
|
Before I enter the abattoir |
|
To see my insides hanging there |
|
But they request that I leave |
|
'Cause my sad eyes are too much to bear |
|
When the light leaves, the dark sees |
|
Your hands to your hips now, |
|
Two swan necks |
|
Curl between pelvis with stretch-marks |
|
And shoulders with those freckle flecks |
|
The pain of the silence before bed |
|
Oh for the sound of your pissing |
|
Through the thin walls |
|
Or stroking your head |
|
But for the shadows and doom |
|
And the sorrow we seem to have bred |
|
When the light leaves, the dark sees |
