The Word is Out

Do you think of me when your mind can't breathe
And my blood runs hot on the cold pale sheets?
Do you?
Do I think of you when my aching skin
Feels fingertips gliding in?
Do I?

Did you think of you when your heartless chest
Felt fuck all ripping mine from my breast?
Did you? Did you?

I think of you and your crooked smile
And your father's right hand, and our unborn child
And your mouth from out which candid words fell
Those moist missed lips that ate so well

That lick, that spit, that spun your spell
The prose, the poems you stole from books
And other's stories from infidels
And conjured up a killer squirrel

The bird is dead
The word is out
The bird is dead
The word is out

The word is out
The word is out



Credits
Writer(s): Imelda Mary Higham
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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