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Backed across that bastard
Spun the mud like fabric
Tires lifting dropping
The shining river blinds me.

One false stitch is all it takes
Just throw your fist across your face and split a lip
What a thrill to hurt yourself without a thing to blame
For all the suffering
Serves us right, the violent types
A word is flipped inside your mind until it's... shit

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Lost, all lost.

There's no crazy crush when
The thought is lost in
All the confusion
The current swept it off.

Back across the byway
Took the Northern Northern
Spinal cord and muscle
I'm strong as hell, I'm open.

Hollow rock beside an estuary bank
Of mud and slime where a boat sank
Clothing stretched across a stone
Cold cigarettes and chicken bones are all he left
Stinking tide reminds a rat of better times and all
The bread he left behind
All of the crumbs and gristled fat
He threw at birds who nagged and snapped
And cursed his eyes

Writer(s): greg giles

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