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Pulling up to the curb

Rapier in my hair

Honey and lavender

Endocrines and vetiver

Ananon

Ananon

Turning up dead in golden ploughs

Cutting up tubes of weathered clothes

I stomped the brain

I fell away

My open chest

Contained a hymn

Pay

Making the grapes take the fawn

Pay

Letting the napes grace the necks

We squeal at the form we gave birth to

We break into the exhale of a sire

And tеll our selves to cry

Pulling on to the lawn

Iron braziеr on my chest

I hold close to the mother

Ananon

Making the grapes take the fawn

Letting the napes grace the next

Making the grapes take the fawn

Stumbling our way to the dawn