contraband's orphan
inside a sharing of bread
outside is butter
salt is a shoelace
the paint is over
her head
my god
the ego death's
of bad karma
cemetary's and owners
tied to the staircase
rubber band girls
chase and crawl
with wedding vows
for dancing crimes
all mourning long
new york
can you feel me
my mother dropped me
beneath san Francisco
to build a way down
into the daytime's of shades
never learning to wash off the filth
filthy sound
please don't come back to me
i need a brewery
and creams
to bury me beside my lover