last night while i was asleep i washed
away my pores and had my last
conversation with you the way i usually can.
there were whirring little spinners
that tickled the rough of my hands
and a weekend exchange of what i want
you to know just in case you
wanted me to take your hand
well i can see the blazing good
and my love for your mellow soul
and i can't hate you 'cause you're free
and you'll be wealthy when you're old
kissing in the flacid points between our
sin soaked night, and we spin wax with favoring dream mixing our heads
up with weak, there were moments which i would regret and then later ask why
and when i went outside as if nobody knew
but the sky, to whom i made shady deals
regarding money and girls
and i can't be done with cheap thrills
and when i thought i felt safe
while i could scrape at my old love
there was a mountain of new taste
hey motion eye, oh how you've turned
into a certain type of ugly person
when your ship has sailed then all
of your shit will fly away