lo-fi

like a steamship with only words to live, we gobble, gargle and then burn the midnight oil to piss. we're kept hanging on by pocketbook mistakes. come home to bed to find a pick-locket just took the drapes. so we keep drumming, waiting for whatever's coming and the last thing that gets summoned is the always heat of the moment. can you tell me why i feel so hoarse? i can't stop ponying up tears from the lint-encrusted depths of my eyes. can you tell me why i feel no remorse? i want to love 'em and leave 'em but my throat always gets stuck on goodbyes. the water never washes anything away. the rust just keeps building up. and i never sleep either, at least not until you're away. the lust is all that's keeping us together in my mind. i know it's ill-defined through the haze that cloaks my eyes but i could have sworn i saw a dagger in your alibis. you think you look good while smoking, and i look good in mirrors. you are my queen but i am no king, and (no jest) i fucking revere us.