Tuesday, April 18, 2006

for liz by request

a little place
past the railroad tracks
we vomit life and idiocy
theres a bar well known
a home away from home
where nothing ever promises to cease to be
in a half mooon night
under a clod embrace
i had to fall on a knife
to save some face
and now i'll bleed out in the gutter
while you're finishing a drink or two
but don't you worry
your pretty little head
i've spent a great deal of time amongst the living dead
just stop to smell the roses on your way back home
and i'll stradle life and swallow the broken bone
and now we spray the jungle floor with whiskey piss
until you feel alive once more

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