I tried in the murky twilight of Wednesday to face it.
In the inky dusk of that far-flung moor,
I tried and failed to face it.
That next dawn sang of ochre and orange dewdrops
And promises that were never kept,
And I bit my tongue and promised myself
That by the sunrisen noon
This would all be gone.

Night fell down
Over the blackened hillside,
And all was clearer.
Those stolen cigarettes
We held between our teeth
Shone new from out of our minds
As if those embers knew all of our secrets.

And on that gold-drenched dawn,
We lay dizzy on railroad tracks
Triumphant in our drunken wanderings
And exalting clean syringes up to heaven.
And in the evening of yesterday,
We burned our throats raw
With the amber mornings of today.