for the love, I¼d fallen on
in the swampy August dawn
what a mischief you would bring young darling!
when the onus is not all your own
when youre up for it before youve grown
from the faun forever gone
in the towers of your honeycomb
Id a tore your hair out just to climb back darling
when youre filling out your only form
can you tell that it¼s just ceremon
now youve added up to what youre from
build your tether rain-out from your fragments&
break the sailors table on your sacrum&
fuck the fiercest fables, Im with Hagen
for the love, comes the burning young
from the liver, sweating through your tongue
well, you¼re standing on my sternum dont you climb down darling
oh the sermons are the first to rest
smoke on Sundays when you¼re drunk and dressed
out the hollows where the swallow nests