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Stroke 9 Down frozen fingers on my skin guilty hands clutching gin your tin, thin eyes can't see within soul to soul, shin to shin we burn
and the silence won't subside as i crawl to your scaly side your eyes could never hide my eyes and all their pride
carving out a piece for me saving three for you squeeze me tight and that's all
my shoulder to your face so warm dim light from moon outlines our form sinewy and shiftless and so forlorn between here and there and everywhere you're torn waiting for you to call out my name speak to me and say that it's alright to be on the wrong track
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