As they laid my bones down at the crossroads, I saw my ghost sell my soul to the inferno for petrol to get home.
Now each day I sink a bit faster into my father's fate.
Four packs a day.
Four decades straight.
Right to an unmarked grave.
I used to think it would sleep.
As I laid my cross down at the bones beneath my feet, she came.
The face of a saint.
The voice of a sympathy.
She says "The future will be devoid of weaknesses."
Free cigarettes for all the kids to make small skeletons.
I used to think it would sleep.
I used to think as I aged with time that it would shut it's eyes and just let me be.
Then I'd seen it's designs to k** and hide deceitfully inside my skin.
I've been hunting it ever since.