At the end of the song, I’m alone.

The silence succeeds along the lining of my waist.

 

The room continues being crossed, spares me

the need to dislodge any ounce of my nature.

 

I’ve been here before. I’ll rinse the day to make

room for more that profess to claim me.

 

Who do I argue to be? I imagine the theory

could image itself into existence.

 

The city licks the window closed.

I sense the seasonal ache in my hands.

 

Is it too late to admit I have given my life to desire?

How American it is to die for something.

 

I didn’t mean to be clumsy with my faith.

Orchestra of nurses. Failed memory tests.

 

The streets paved with the smell of rain.

It’s all galloping back to me now.

 

There was a spell the downed robin was

in present tense. There was a mother.

 

Outside, a neighbor calls his dog,

Stupid fuck. I’ve made hardwired mistakes.

 

In the beginning, there was an easiness

to being touched, a was was that opened its shell.

 

The necessity bleeds away as I stand here

without nothing but a body and my frugal mind.

 

Times I think I’d rather do the wrecking. Have you ever

done that? Ever questioned who or what God is?

 

*

 

Ever questioned who or what God is? Have you ever

done that? Times I think I’d rather do the wrecking.

 

Without nothing but a body and my frugal mind,

the necessity bleeds away as I stand here

 

to be touched, a was was that opened its shell.

In the beginning, there was an easiness.

 

Stupid fuck. I’ve made hardwired mistakes.

Outside, a neighbor calls his dog

 

in the present tense. There was a mother.

There was a spell the downed robin was.

 

It’s all galloping back to me now.

The streets paved with the smell of rain.

 

Orchestra of nurses. Failed memory tests.

I didn’t mean to be clumsy with my faith.

 

How American it is to die for something.

Is it too late to admit I have given my life to desire?

 

I sense the seasonal ache in my hands.

The city licks the window closed,

 

could image itself into existence.

Who do I argue to be? I imagine the theory

 

room, more that profess to claim me.

I’ve been here before. I’ll rinse the day to make

 

the need to dislodge any ounce of my nature.

The room continues being crossed, spares me

 

the silence as it succeeds along the lining of my waist.

At the end of the song, I’m alone.