The room wallpapered with pages of your letters that you once sent (you once sent) and wrestled with their bodies that wash like untamed rivers against your shore (against your shore) and armies wait in their secret places that gently twist around your bed
The south will be spared bullets flying fast from her eyes with Confederate fire
Aah Aah
They etch our names in candles they're heart-shaped and they flicker inside our chests (in our chests) And ghosts of our brethren speak tales which are hidden much like ours (much like ours) of brothers fighting of holy fields where their new loves come and their old loves go
And they just wilt like Spanish moss with dew in their eyes tears for our Lord and for the ones he spares when they've lost their way it's off-off-off with their heads
And the whores he loves and the lepers he claims that he can cure can not compete with those humid summer days that we would share