I had blood for breakfast, Ill need apples for tea.
It was good for you, Im hoping it will be for me.
The sun burst
brightly from under the cloud.
No premeditation, Im thinking aloud.
The engines in gear, running on diesel,
The painters in clover behind the easel.
Trees in the
meadow shedding their fruit,
Thieves in the alley dividing the loot.
I come to the convent when the evenings purple and pink.
The chains you forged, Im smashing them link by link.
Yes I come
to the convent when the evenings purple and rose,
To the big oak door that the nuns never close.
Stars in their billions are blinking awake.
The moon is a splinter, the silver tongue of a snake.
under my skin now with a hook that wont break.
I hear your voice echo from a boat out on the lake.
Even at midnight, you can still smell the heather.
Its sweeter than ever when we are together.
promises, bloom and they fade.
Promises, promises there are better things to be made.
The iron wheels grinding and stripping its cogs.
The hare on the hillsides outrunning the dogs.
of some things is millions of years
And some things wont wash off with twice that many tears.
I hope that the gun works; I bought it mail order.
Well find out soon enough, when were over the border.
good companions, unlikely as it seems.
We keep waking up in each others dreams.
John Gibbens & Armorel Weston 2003
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