Two pink trills beneath my dark moon.
Order her a newer face it will take away what hurts.
Me staying along the bank to hear the new king's words.

Tell me I have left of what I guessed to be my life.

I'll continue picking parts from the rusting owl.
My mouth with your blue lips I know now just how coarse.
I know that I'm far off course.

True. Truer aim.
And I now turn the key where graves are not.

The potter