Painting my roses red Remember all the Bloody things they said Wiping my hands That bleed Bleeding into the dirt That groans under me Constantly my dirty friend Help me roll over again There's a fence by the road I should climb It was there That my palette And I would wait For our paintings To flower and stitch up The canvas on our return Elbow on a broken seed Opening an angry mouth That bleeds
Times when the grounds Crawling like mice Are birds and like birds Are men and me eyes On either side Of my head so never Either eye shall meet Firey come, firey go Burning you memory on me There’s an artist Whose strength I admire Who’s warming his feet By my fire These riches he owns Aren’t the same As the tokens we win Playing games We play outside
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