The Word Is Out
Davide Rossi, Imelda May, Tim Bran
Do you think of me
When your mind can't breathe
And my blood runs hot
On the cold pale sheets?
Do you?
Do I think of you
When my aching skin
Feels fingertips
Gliding in?
Do I?!
Did you think of you
When your heartless chest
Felt fuck all
Ripping mine from my breast?
Did you?
Did you?
I think of you
And your crooked smile
Your father's right hand
And our unborn child
And your mouth
From out which candied words fell
Those moist missed lips
That ate so well
That licked that spit
That spun your spell
The pros the poems
You stole from books
And other's stories
From infidels and conjured up
A killer squirrel
The bird is dead
The word is out