God hangs heavy in the air tonight
like Spanish moss on Cypress trees
Breathing is a penance for my sin,
a lapse of passion for my beloved.
I would lap water at your holy place
if my history hadn't ruined me in
ways I'll never understand. I burn
fierce until match burns fingers.
You are my last angel. I'm ashes.
Beg your God for my redemption.
My stained soul yearns for love
and I know your love can keep me.