But I can’t sleep. I drink 20 oz. of beer, text Prussia, tell her “we need to sing again…,” text Mama, Laura Lee—anybody, I’m a body-catcher. Put this song on and then this album from the beginning, only love makes killing time so cruel, naked and drunk in the stereo light. I swim in the years, I swim in…dark pools of reverie and ruin. Don’t come up til the sun comes slantin’ in. I want you. And nothing else will do.
What do I do with love I can’t use for her anymore? Where do I put this beautiful suit another man wore?
𝑆𝑈𝐵𝑆𝐶𝑅𝐼𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝑂 𝐽𝐼𝑀 𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑅’𝑆 𝑃𝑂𝐸𝑀 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝐸𝐸𝐾
𝑆𝑇𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐸, 𝐽𝐼𝑀 𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑅’𝑆 8𝑇𝐻 𝐹𝑈𝐿𝐿-𝐿𝐸𝑁𝐺𝑇𝐻 𝐶𝑂𝐿𝐿𝐸𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑃𝑂𝐸𝑇𝑅𝑌, 𝑁𝑂𝑊 𝐴𝑉𝐴𝐼𝐿𝐴𝐵𝐿𝐸 𝐴𝑇 𝐽𝐼𝑀𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑅.𝑁𝐸𝑇
Going for the Throat 