You know, how when the sun is out til really late one day every year and
you play Apollo shoulders with your first born self and everyone feels
like a nearness/ winner running beneath that yellow umbrella but the
slow word for mirror blows itself to roar before you can dwell on it,
his love for you, you're combating it all Not so fast with your fat tongue all over my name like claw or a bad actor as I shine on the grass in your mouth and you get how...
I was thinking about the gun in your mouth/that time, how you placed it
there like a Lego or a lie that won't let go or how a quarantined idea
turns into a demon which just means a hidden thing and how if I just
expose the thing it becomes its own answer/it becomes it own father
with its own weapon turned on himself. Love was a weapon then and the
song went up in camels and made us millions. In the first room there
was the second room, in the second room there was the third, there are seven rooms in her, at least, her name alone is worth a fortune
