The Widow

he’s got fasting black lungs
made of clove splintered shardes
they’re the kind that will talk
through a weezing of coughs

and i hear him every night
in every pore
and every time he just makes me warm

freeze without an answer
free from all the shame
must i hide
cause i’ll never sleep alone

look at how they flock to him
from an isle of open sores
he knows that the taste is such
such to die for

and i hear him every night
on every street
the scales that do slither
deliver me from…

freeze without an answer
free from all the shame
then i’ll hide
cause i’ll never
never sleep alone

oh lord
said i’m bloodshot for sure
pale runs the ghost
swollen on the shore

every night
in every pore
the scales that do slither
deliver me from…

freeze without an answer
free from all the shame
then i’ll hide
cause i’ll never
never sleep alone