I've been letting these crows pick at my insides.
Dry-mouthed mornings, stumbling home.
I've been letting these vultures tear out my eyes.

It's hard to feel clean with my busied upper thighs,
like rotting stumps on which mushrooms have grown.
I've been letting these crows pick at my insides.

And this boy, this stranger, he squeezed like a vise
so I wear his red hand on my collarbone.
I've been letting these vultures tear out my eyes.

Now, my love, my sweet, would you even recognize
me? Hiding my face in the towel he's thrown?
I've been letting these crows pick at my insides.

This garden is poison, I didn't realize
that I'd have to eat from the seeds that I've sown.
I've been letting these vultures tear out my eyes.

Oh shame, shame. I desensitize.
I see you in the dark when I'm sleeping alone.
So I've been letting these crows pick at my insides.
I've been letting these vultures tear out my eyes.