Age was that beautiful numbernIt was just like your firennow it's just like the smoke that fills your lungs and fucks with your eyesnThe need for sleep has got you spreading your legs and loosening your throatnAnd by your words alonenI can tell that you are one to swallow the taste nbrought on a sparsely attended funeralnAn empty casket filled with the corpse of your moral crusadenThat day i slept soundly dreaming of wet fleshnKnowing that there isn't a kinfe on earth nthat is sharp enough to surgically remove the whore from your body.