buddy used to rock me to sleep
now i’m running from his coffin in like all of dreams
funny how the clocks turn

i cried when i saw an ad about poverty
probably about an hour later i copped a ring
the fuck told him it was a good idea to talk to me?
keeps throwing rocks at me but god’s reach i am not within
stopped eating when pops beat it, now i’m proper thin
hear him shaking those fists beneath me, i mean my floors are thin
and hell is thawing in, inhale and draw it in
mum was on a walk and saw the window, she was not prepared
storming in, like “the fuck you calling him?” guess she got me there, “put that finger down you hypocrite” and i was got again
know the lord won’t care for me, but if you’re there at least care for my mother
treat heaven as comfort, the trees there are for cover
and everyone will tell a different story how they got their colour
smiling on the come up and i came down sunburnt and still fucked up
one shirt size away from french tucking it in my socks
i move a mile a day

buddy used to rock me to sleep
now i’m running from his coffin in like all of dreams
funny how the clocks turn, praying had my carpenters creased
now i reek, you couldn’t wash it off of my fleece

now there’s a pre and a post when speaking of peter
we’d have supposed he’d reading my prose through his ghost eyes, but the font on bandcamp is too small and he won’t find his ghost glasses, he’s been meaning to clean them
ransacked the truth from the kia, even changed the insurance
i cried a bit when we cleaned it, lost the last trace of your stench
shit hurts and i’ve trained to ignore that
ring stuck on my pointer, something peter can gnaw at
same ring lost to god’s sand but was bought back
your hands both for jaw grabbing your love, who would’ve thought that?
i was five, right? who would’ve fought back?
small tasks, five-point font in my fucking diary, days expiring, smoking over 5 a week, heard it’s 52 in a year, might spent less than 5 of them clean
i was moving my rear, i couldn’t find a seat next to truth inside a dream, inside a dream, inside a dream, inside a …
wondering why i don’t dream like i did when i was five, huh?
my friend drove himself across state next to a liar,
i broke down before the car did, i was tried of everything i’m inside of

buddy used to rock me to sleep
now i’m running from his coffin in like all of dreams
funny how the clocks turn, praying had my carpenters creased
now i reek, you couldn’t wash it off of my fleece

didn’t kiss his ex but i didn’t kill his uncle either
begun the year my grandma died listening to ‘unbelievers’
finished that year hating the person who suggested that
let god take every ezra back until it’s just rashidas
bending backs trying to get a tritet intact as if it’s needed
grieving with a heavy hand, gets heavier with every grab
let every kia crash until it’s just the golfs
got too used to pre, had to adjust to post
could’ve sworn i’d drowned, the water barely touched my toes
but i was fucking soaked,
fuck my throat, keeps closing when i trust it most
therapist like “he can’t hurt you now, he’s just a ghost"