Behold the drift of a distant sun
Cold as my own heart
Blind at the edge of no return
Every time I dare depart
I believe the myth may illuminate
an anchor in dry weeds
At the end of July in a fake fur coat
Hoping that your heart still needs me
I concede there’s beauty in bubblegum
And rolling up my sleeves
To advertise the new freedom
I accept that I can’t receive
Behold the gift of a distant sun
The canyons full of loose bones
The metals and brambles and the jack bitch boss
Thundering down from his throne
