there’s a reason you’re damned and I’m not
said the free lamb to the fresh caught
wine lustily sleepwalks from the neck
and I’ll drag you all the way back
but the rain is made of lead and loud
as drunken armies falls
stains on the carpet and kissed upon walls
we’re echoing through your body
hazy and delirious, if a little naughty
no ceilings, it doesn’t matter
no feelings they don’t matter
plenty of room to breathe
plenty of blood to bleed
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