The Most of my Mind I spent Wasted

I live for you.

I've made too much happen for the music and more than not the end of it.

I saw you last week, you looked like French and mostly kept singing about it.

The way he dances on your shoulder. I see heaven at the end of it, your mind and your master.

I was only hoping for saving Sunday and leaving it to the woods for the work of God and the murder of Saitan and whatever you do for love I'm mostly it and mostly born.I waited to say it too.

How much of me i've left sober and left dead to music and left odd and weird and all the opposites and the sakes and the sevens so here comes heaven and it raping me.

It's pretty much on fire again.

I love your hair, so weak and so morbid.

(and really, so grateful)

and I see you at the end of it

and the end of me

And goodmorning,

I've left you cold feet.

(Wake up, it's tomorrow).