and coffin rehearsals.
I know a psychic who read her own palms
and the findings are personal.
She keeps her fists shut tight
and she sleeps on her side, well,
maybe she knows something I don't know.
But I am still alive, in love and wide eyed in my time,
Not a mummy shrinking in it's cloths.
Your cat clawed out my eyes when I's distracted by your smile,
now my sockets sit like empty catcher's mitts waiting...
and you ask me if there's anybody else that I'm dating
Anna and Nathan
I'm patient
But your painted pony is fading
Lost like a snakeskin in high grass
And out there thrashing like a pet bird caught in a jet stream that's me,
you count them blessing cause your net worth oughta be less cream then your best dreams...
But God put a song on my palm that you can't read:
I'm lucky to be under
this same sky that held
the exhale from your first breath
like a ring on a pillow of clouds.
By you my tongue may stutter
but my gift heart screams clear and swells
to burst between the wrapped lengths
of its bowed ribbon cell...
...and when we say your name our tongues catch flame
and you wonder why we ain't got nothing to say
-Why?, 'Fatalist Palmistry'
It's as easy as saying, 'Go get 'em.'
The beginning of the end.
A mile of corpses piled
High on either side of isle 10.
Faint smile, this is my language,
The one I began,
Now rush to distraction,
However it could happen,
What a time to be a kid,
Nine times to get it right,
Or one life to live?
It's not a big loss, if anything happens,
I'm just saying, what a time to live!
Dead roses,
Ceremony of bliss,
Offer me this, ceramic crematorium chrysalis,
Against the endless susurrus of death,
Drowning my innocence,
The wolf and the wick.
Stalker's my whole style, and if I get caught,
I'll deny, deny, deny.
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