kavin tells a story, bev reacts, aspen and gabriel and me try to figure out the moon, roach sings
a jar of snailshells on the sill
cutouts from newspapers crowd the walls
lemon juice and lavender
a stolen salt shaker and menthols
orange peels in the kitchen sink
(a world seen from the cheap seats)
out the window, all rubble and weeds
(bless this, our common grave)
rosemary grows in coffee cans along the street
(a word misunderstood)
permanent grass stains on our knees
(they'd sell the sky if they could)
when the sun turns black
and they say the end is here
when the moon goes red
i'm making faces in the mirror
in the meantime...
sit with me in sunspots
rubbing pollen on our skin?
there's sugar in our spit
it's dripping down my chin
smoke em if you've got em then let's go upstairs
wet brain wet eyes blue blood wet hair
there's sugar in our spit x2
when the sun turns black
and they say the end is here
when the moon goes red
i'm making faces in the mirror
aaahhh
(all day the men have been like this... quiet, almost sad. most times they look forward to the end of a shift. unusual... the kind of day you don't want to see end)
bye bye, black sheep
bye bye, black sheep
i have a secret you could keep
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