Make me vent at the knees
I've got a phantom lung better
than the other
More like the broach you wore with apocryphal insignia
It was better left untouched
It was better left alone
For the hour of my echo is at hand
Do you feel that respiration?
It's blocking out the sky
Now there's not light to be shed
on this painful labour
Walking with my old limp that
resonates your ego
When I feel the resignation of my limbs
You rode in on a horse
But wouldn't form a tryst
Saw you ride in on a horse
But you couldn't be convinced
Tell your brother's
keeper that he's in an
awful mess
Tell your zealous mother
to spray her tongue
Tell your brother's keeper his cuts are
somewhat of a nuance
When that zealous mother
bleeds for everyone
Now you feel that respiration
It's blocking out the sky
Leaving no light
to be shed on this
painful labour