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I'd sure like to get in there

I'd never need out

Never need out again


Blood on my hands

Except the floor 

The couch

The bed


Blood on my hands

This ain't the first

Time I've been 

Let down


It's your blood

Running

Out of me


Forget, forget

Running out of me


Blood on your hands

Way down

The way

It used to be


Blood on your hands

Simplify

Harder to recognize

Simply


Because we've blood on

Our hands


Scared to recognize

Butterflies

Inside the 

Way it used to be


Moving my hands

Hard to fly


****** my hands

Simple

Sacrifice


Blood where my hands were once

Simple
And sympathy
I don't hate
Or have a habit
That goes through
That

Anyone's anything
Anyway

2
4 c
If u
Even ever
Get
Around

To me
If'n u can ever
Get around

You can come over
Get all overwhelmed
Get all over me
Tattooing with a gun
With no ink
Stare in the mirror
Until my eyes water
Smoke and blood and
Dust from my skin

Like a pilot writing your name
In the sky
Or I LOVE YOU.

I'm rooting around in my skin
Bleeding your name
Am I finished?

Cut smoke, bank left and roll
Down

I hope she saw me in the sky today
He thought

Shut off the gun
And with that the dust 
and
the rest

Blades of grass
Crocuses and lillies and daffodils
Sunshine and trees and 
Music and laughter

All in this tiny tattoo
If you are really in love
You have become incredibly important
as you have never been

I won't enter the contest
But i may crawl or slither
across the floor
Sometime this winter

only because i want to save you with dancing
**** in the snow
spit in the wind
both froze in the air
hit the road again

never get cold
warm is a drug
it lulls my brain
my eyes don't bug
gas in the can
hit the road again

gone are those days
my dog and i fly
gone are those days
now it's just i

move on ahead
gas in the can
thumb on my hand
hit the road again
For Luke Sidewalker
shift

crokus outlook
standing firm

just like
i always do

when i catch a glimpse
of your thigh
through

your bright sun

who knew?
double-minded
windy-watered
broken-masted
ship going down

your gatemouth gasping

air strickened
crooked shooter
surrender flaggin
surround sound

laugh track laughing

dry sailing
guard railing
panic flail wave wailing
as i roll away from you
clowns

lying as you're back-tracking

pin-pointed
spot-lit
rubber-ruled
measuring cup
baby get your fill

loose lip hanging
from your teeth
just like laundry drying
on the line
which is thin

Your gatemouth hanging open
in a grit-tooth hundred year
sand laden wind
For Michelle the Nasty
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