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Giving The Table A Name
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Beriberi
The room is smaller
The line is longer
The sky is darker
I hope you answer
Swollen letters
Lipstick starts to pour from the envelope
I've a few more days
Mangled motorcars are trying to collide
The doors are peeling off their hinges
A flicker down the hall
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A candle on my skull
'Til it wakes me up
And puts us further in
Into the red again
You're underneath my skin
I cannot shake it off
Deep into the field, embedded in the ground
My body splayed in four directions
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