She called me,
the King of her heart,
a Jack Rabbit,
Seneca of a legion
The angel of mercy with wings
propelling love letters from its bow
sharp like the Red Jacket in her chest
The ace in her heart and she
died many times before
casted aside
I'm the message in a bottle
to be found ashore...
a lost psalm

And although the tare of her brittle
hope to believe
that an angel of mercy
could enlighten her of this scar,
I'll be shooting aerrows to knees
collecting feathers in my palms
Killing soft melodies
Good or bad deeds
Perceptions of a woman
are no excuses.
No mercy for a man.

(INCREDIBLE INK- TEAM JAGUAR HAWAII)
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