The candles are forgetting how
to light the holes in our bodies.
Still, they dine on thunder and hearts,
for soon they will do a quiet crime.
To light the holes in our bodies
satellites steal the script and burn it,
for soon they will do a quiet crime
and save that talk for morning’s first blush.
Satellites steal the script and burn it,
the way my clematis has to strangle something
and save that talk for morning’s first blush
to pay so much purple interest to the sky.
The way my clematis has to strangle something
when the house is happily numb, hoping not
to pay so much purple to the sky.
Only the evidence points to your innocence
when the house is happily numb, hoping not
all your alibis will feel like paper cuts.
Only the evidence points to your innocence,
and in the spirit of full disclosure, I must tell you
all your alibis will feel like paper cuts.
Half the fun is not knowing where that ocean came from,
and in the spirit of full disclosure, I must tell you
if you take the beach away, my ribs will follow.
Half the fun is not knowing where that ocean came from,
like the apostle who came in the rain,
if you take the beach away, my ribs will follow.
To be in love with my golden mouth,
like the apostle who came in the rain,
the candles are forgetting how
to be in love with my golden mouth.
Still they dine on thunder and hearts.