Say what it is that's been eating you
this grey washed suffocation
Your calling it home brother

Yet
we are far from where the flowers grow in the midst of grave yards for hours so
say what it is that's been eating you

through little holes in the bones
like bees in a tree
and your scratching now
yet nothing is come from your mouth

just seeping from those pores
who abused you son,
oh you from your mother's womb
your lovers heart
your mortal doom
your peace apart.
Whose closed your doors my child of nature my son of man
My divine favor.
Say what's been eating you
So we could bid it rest.