Mercury
My mind is dirt and this soil my curse
The seeds you plant in this heat make me worse
I just get so nervous, like I should believe
So perhaps I am wicked and not meant to be
And the steam that is rising
Intoxicates quickly
I have grown pale and swollen and sickly
Crocodile, crocodile, dry off your eyes
And take back your sorrowful, meaningless lies
I dream of your lovers, I wish for their deaths
Inside plastic bags, I will keep their last breaths
And with confined sighs, go north for a rest
I will leave with my murders and nothing will matter
Hot into cold, my love it will shatter
Beneath a deep snow, I will hibernate sweetly
And sleep off this hatred that binds me completely
I’ll pluck all my hairs, I’ll spin them for thread
To sew up the gashes I’ve put in your bed
And with mattress mended, go sleep with the dead
And the water that drips
Is forming a knife
My cheeks will be rosy devoid of past strife
My thoughts will be still when the earth has gone hard
The roots of your anger will leave my heart scarred
I just get so anxious, with all I believe
So perhaps I am wicked and not meant to be
Copyright © Andy Thomson | Year Posted 2013
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