I'll be the slime on the backs of your teeth
I'll be the cuts on the soles of your feet
I'll be the knife worn through your sheath
I'll be the dry rot at the base of the trees
I'll be the bloodstains in your sheets
I'll be the aphids in your wheat
I am the scabs on the soles of your feet
I am the cuts in the gaps of your teeth
I'm spitting blood, these swollen gums are getting softer.
I'm spitting blood, pools in my hands lands near my feet.