| Lit deep, tin drops
|
| Half the lights, shot out
|
| The roof of your mouth
|
| Back in your hollow, odd habits, odd
|
| Lidded, stoned and guarded
|
| You never take that face down anymore
|
| Fever to sand, surgery lights
|
| Head full of sin, shot out
|
| Absinthe stutter, heaven knows
|
| Needles off the sand
|
| Carpet of horses from the plane
|
| Shade fell
|
| Shimmering flies in the pauses at your table
|
| The flesh on your back, sparrows swallow
|
| Scratch their way down into you
|
| Lidded, stoned and guarded
|
| If you let it in
|
| Fever to sand, surgery lights
|
| Head full of sin, shot out
|
| Absinthe stutter, heaven knows
|
| Needles off the sand
|
| Carpet of horses from the plane… |