You're still in my head.
Amongst the carrion, you walk as a drifter.
You're still in my bed.
Though split tongued snake eyes enter the after.

Your melting face is still in question.
The sunspots blinding is still a weapon.

You're still in my heart.
Amongst contusions you walk as a keeper.
You still fall apart.
Though chalk skinned star saints follow you deeper.

You seek the soulless of old to bury you in gold.
Make my sun refuse to shine.
And the song will cease to rhyme.
If your heart does lose its hope, use the weight in your pockets to tighten your rope.