| Days go by
|
| these thieves,
|
| dressed in sleeves of white
|
| stand on
|
| chests of heaving sighs
|
| night trips
|
| followed closely by
|
| white sleeved, thick thieves hum
|
| swallowing words
|
| that stick in your lungs
|
| find it all
|
| in a mess on the tables
|
| are turning
|
| it sounds like you’ve said this a hundred times
|
| each louder, more boring
|
| the twitch, the itch,
|
| the sting, smooth stump
|
| Sick lung, the hum
|
| With some, without
|
| Thick dumb, smooth stump
|
| So loud, without
|
| these thieves,
|
| dressed in sleeves of white
|
| stand on chest of heaving sighs
|
| night trips, followed closely by
|
| white sleeved, thick thieves hum.
|
| swallowing words
|
| that stick in your lungs
|
| find it all
|
| in mess on the tables
|
| are turning
|
| it sounds like you’ve said this hundred times
|
| each louder, more boring,
|
| and high… |