tonight a small boy is weeping in a forest he misses the black dog which lay down beside him if he lives he'll shape his heart around a trigger tell it to the birds if any are left to sing of it a man with ambitions sold him down the river a woman with a microphone identified the price a beggar on the riverbank knelt down and held him tell it to the birds if any are left to sing of it what price a brain smoking in the mud? what price a baby spitted like a piglet? what price a cunt ripped open with a rifle? tell it to the birds if any are left to sing of it the man in the bunker makes love to his money the poor woman pulls a pebble from her pocket and the face of a child rubbed pale as a dream tell it to the birds if any are left to sing of it
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Money
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment