Another night
wraps around me...

It's hard to put a shirt on
with a knife in my back...

Yesterday is gone and so is she,
leaving apparitions in the air...

Trampled in the dirt
a maroon stained ring...

There is no God or devil
battling for my mortal soul...

I wait in the park at
the spot where we used to meet...

Peaceful days of languor grow short as
tattered scarecrows gaurd barren fields of...

When I was younger
I thought I could fly...

So I sit here drinking,
quietly, silently thinking...

Sit in trees, eat dreams,
wear halos of gnats, spit blood through ebony...

But tell me
that there are no more wars here...

And we wished hard
like mad, fevered children...