Oh, the scene was macabre
Two to the floor of the van
When we, reentering the state, passed a
Bridge whose architects were gods that left it
They left its rusted frame in the hands
The failing hands of sinners
And I rested my eyes for
The first time in weeks
While you lay there wondering
Would you ever sleep again?
Oh, and we spelled out disaster
Cute, like a broken accent
And drunk? I’m nothing of the sort, I just
Can’t, can’t seem to speak in tongues at the
Moment I’m the figure of all my travels
A weary traveling suitcase
Always the same nightmare
Will we ever pause just
To allow this love to
Come remove its coat?