To write a lyric on your scrounged out drawers
Would be war of a poet's smiles
So, I take a flower from your hat
Are you Thomas or Bob?
I can't ignore the broken corners near the eye

You need **** the thirst of buds
With the graves of men and women
Bow at the altar of the Joan of Arc
As she billows like the flames and blood

Everything is faded
As she fakes
Like a guileless child
Or a woman who is mine