tombeau? mais si , even damned
pour les ombres errantes de françois couperin
i will perchance control yer soul towards the letter s
it might be yer maitresse waking in distress
i will edu etu educate the sounds in which
you speak i will even spread yer bleedin sheets
darlings darlings da lingo here is not good
we need a beter fiction sth like i should
my love 4 u is endless as woods be wood
the trees belong to sounds as does my inner ear
my hurting cock hurts women all around the clock
but in those words ye know ye hear yer weeping sound
there is no choice no end no giving & no joy. no hope.
time belongs to the living but we are by far forlorn
the quake Bcame within our shake diseased. we stir.
the dirt is what we wanted. it came. isn’t it a shame?
