Down de Stroke 9

Frozen fingers on my skin
guilty hands clutching gin your tin, thin
eyes can't see within soul to soul, shin
to shin we burn
And the silence won't subside as i
crawl to your scaly side your eyes
could never hide my eyes and all their
pride
Carving out a piece for me saving
three for you squeeze me tight and
that's all
My shoulder to your face so warm
dim light from moon outlines our form
sinewy and shiftless and so forlorn
between here and there and
everywhere you're torn waiting for
you to call out my name speak to me
and say that it's alright to be on the
wrong track