Grudge Against The Epitaph

The wolves were thinning in skins
Sheep had known they were living in.
The wolves were thinning in skins,
Hunger coming to know them again
I don’t fucking believe this.
I just want to go home.
You were supposed to feed me.
Just leave me alone.
I’m falling to dust.
There’s nothing I can do.

Sleep under dunes
Song of terrapin shell
Lined with the tinder moss
A craft of living coal