As fences are felons we take turns
Tearing them all to little pieces
Palaces fall in the morning
For they alert us of our tiny perspectives
We sell our breath to the haggard
The hecklers can take
These letters of recommendation to the grave with them
I would rather take you to bed with me
But you are not ready to let me
Imbibe that watery something yet
It's like honey without the bees or the bumbling
We are troubled by troops of covetous warriors
Awarding our appetites with only knives and comforters