For the love, Iʼd fallen on
in the swampy August dawn
what a mischief you would bring young darling!
when the onus is not all your own
when you´re up for it before you´ve grown

from the faun forever gone
in the towers of your honeycomb
I´d a tore your hair out just to climb back darling
when you´re filling out your only form
can you tell that itʼs just ceremon´
now you´ve added up to what you´re from

build your tether rain-out from your fragments…
break the sailor´s table on your sacrum…
fuck the fiercest fables, I´m with Hagen

for the love, comes the burning young
from the liver, sweating through your tongue
well, youʼre standing on my sternum don´t you climb down darling
oh the sermons are the first to rest
smoke on Sundays when youʼre drunk and dressed
out the hollows where the swallow nests