Flour-Covered Feathers

I did't mean to stiff you but out of all actuality, you stiffed me. It's to the umpteenth degree. You know what I mean. (Interlude). And here we go; you may be the one that I see. Even more than I see. Maybe even desire. Knifed, fire, psalters, gone. Gone. Gone.

Don't flinch out by your change. Naked is the truth we all need to be. Don't get broken down by the sting. Don't even flinch keep it stinging. The cops and the news don't know the heaven from hell. We can just trust in the wind we feel on our feathers and the rain on our skin. The resin in the gun we have loaded isn't what clean feeling or desire. The siren is the alarm and the tempt or truth. Goodnight.