“Burn a Shoe with Gold”
We thought it was so simple I would change your mind
I’d alter every altar, burn a shoe with gold and tie
Until you were mine
Dreadful you will tread in the moss-ridden flesh
Blind is the arbor, future is the grass
You’ll
Before find
Saffron shadow of
for the
a better Sunday
Where have my
in damp
In soil
the absence of all that’s left
live
I’ve my bed
Oh
As clock drones forth
soak regret
the Sunday
Of with cheeks
Saffron the this past
Waiting birds her
In
Where I’ve had made my
On the but heavy sand
I on the soil
you we
I’ll maybe get sleep
And dream
was
in shadow of this past