Oh, and my sweet dear mother
I need love
But, your sweet sinless sensation
Just isn’t my style
And, by the church I’ve come undone
Yet, I carry on like the wayward sun
How long must we bleed?
Till we start to believe?
Colors a blend, these raw shriveled
Black and whites
She said “you’re tired.”
And I’m tired
That’s when I said “I’ll see you in the Wild.”