Dying
spirit - same multitude
of cries
from the beautiful coast
still
gaping and deaf cool yeah
dying
tissue rules the sound of fame.
Pole broken
and crying mothers
dying they
seek to crush your howl
suffer,
fucked up in the sun
the sun has crushed
the dream of night.
To cry for
the deaf
on the toes
the tears stand in circles
to cry for
the deaf
your veil
so beautiful.
The sun of peace
wraps the smoke around
if the tissue is deaf
on the guarded floor
a snorting
dog pierces the rain
red dogs whine
the sound of guilt.
Drill, if
other dogs fail
count the
crispness of the waffles
cover fame
when the
old hour runs out.
To cry for
the deaf
on the toes
the tears stand in circles
to cry for
the deaf.
The vortex
of the sun.
Die before
midnight in a bowl of tears
if the dogs
are tender
sinful and
wounded
who else
feels salvation
huh, armed
with notes.
Dying
chieftain's ball
death wades coat racks
through the bog
in the
shelter of salamander fire
a drip, a
single drip forever.
To cry for
the deaf
on the toes
stand tears in circles
to cry for
the deaf
a peace of mind
touches the beloved's neck
early very
famous
early next morning
to cry for
the deaf.
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