When we die, a never ending summer, immersing in last july. When our savior slides down a mountainside, bringing down our houses. If you remain firmly believing in every single word. He will take you aside, you can smother desperation like like a huge, sick bird. Promise of salvation hovering overheard. When we die, they f** you so completely. They twine, circle 'round, never quite touching down. Cast your fishes's stone to the sky. They try. Short man, hair thinning, shot gla** clutched, forgotten his left hand. Short man, hair thinning, forgotten his left hand, shot leaning against the door.