|
Your blood owns no bones, |
|
With mailmen in your home |
|
Holding a knife to your poems |
|
Po o o o o o o o o o o o o o ems |
|
To hollow all you're sown |
|
And holler Goner, you're owned! |
|
Your blood owns no bones, |
|
With mailmen in your home |
|
Holding a knife to your poems |
|
To hollow all you're sown |
|
And holler Goner, you're owned! |
|
And supposing you was meant to be bent born some sort of law man, |
|
With the poise of an intellectual and a |
|
hunch of a clerk, |
|
Because disposition of a saint they'd say, |
|
He's cancel eye and ever correct |
|
And knowing that, now are you less |
|
In the ever so complicated |
|
endeavor of a human death |
|
There are only two species set to death on Earth |
|
The creature of choice |
|
And the creature ; There are only two species set to death on earth |
|
(x2) |
|
Where in the human |
|
Are you? |
|
There are two sweet seeds on Earth |
|
There are two sweet seeds on |
|
There are two sweet seeds on |
|
There are two |
|
And supposing you was meant to be bent sole keeper |
|
Of the one kilometer-long list of things certain to be so |
|
The human plight right there in 1s and Os |
|
And he who knows all that's owed |
|
You'd think would be considerably more fearless, |
|
Unless, of course, he feels this |
|
Heat of something coming to adjust his |
|
Eminence accordingly |
|
To go on stealing poems, |
|
From the homed |
|
Armed with only a key comb |
|
Letter opener carved from bone wish, |
|
With which to pick |
|
The simple levers of locks |
|
To fly things well beyond the eye on |
|
high |
|
sky of your clock |
|
Your blood owns no bones, |
|
With mailmen in your home |
|
Holding a knife to your poems |
|
Po o o o o o o o o o o o o o ems |
|
To hollow all you're sown |
|
And holler Goner, you're owned! |
|
Your blood owns no bones, |
|
With mailmen in your home |
|
Holding a knife to your poems |
|
To hollow all you're sown |
|
And holler Goner, you're owned! |
|
Are. To the |
|
Po o o o o o o o ems |
|
(x3) |
|
A sunset interjects |
|
They'll walk to the (x2) |
|
I'm fine down here |
|
(x2) |
|
Cut the fabric of the black |
