Lower Dens Hospice Gates
On the hill adorned in dew,
I miss seeing you through your den of verse.
In the clinic stall they've confined me to.
Loose the noose I wear and I'll run away with you.
All riled,
Night's young,
I lunge,
Gutted on hospice gates.
Into these rooms,
Your bawdy verses boom.
"If you don't know me now,
You'll know me soon."
All riled,
Night's young,
I lunge,
Gutted on hospice gates.
