Friday, 8 May 2015

7. Toast

I heard your song tonight, I felt
the barbed wire in my spine

For you’re the one who understands
the things that make us fine

Or better, louder, more than that:
the things that make us collapse

When cliché was a shattered heart
you pounded down the axe

I kissed you when your mane was lank
you smacked me in the gob

I pulled your hair, you promised me
hot daggers for the mob

"We’ll stab them in their softest parts,"
you said, "we’ll do them in

Let’s host a party in their guts
and toast our slay with gin"

If death was sharp, your grin was more
alluring than their flesh

The tides can come to take them now
we’ll both be born afresh

So we’ve done good, much better than
we thought we would back then

Let’s listen to your song and wait
the new armies of men

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