I'm drinking spiders
In a table for three
With one eyed Messiah
And Joseph as my company
You chose to be the blinds' eyes
The deafs' ears
A yell upon the lips of those who's tongues are tied
Forgive me for your eye
I'm feeling tension as I write
I feel no pain
Still you ain't trying to feel no rest
That's why I'm blind
And not for you climbing alongside Tim and Dan
I try to reach you in your sleep
In the form of the bespectacled falling child
Holding the fluttering infant from its sleeves above the sea
You are late
Your pillow's full of oil
Oh little child put on Thursday shoes
And laugh as you grumble for the light
I witnessed the moment
That spider got stuck in your throat
But I've seen it before
A memory worn outside of clothes
As you drink in haste
Like a hare in chase
You'll never taste the slightest of delights
Neither a stab from its rays
Burrow down to your hole
With books and dazzling flowers
Is the world a parade or a song?
Your pillow's full of oil
Oh little child put on Thursday shoes
And laugh as you grumble for the light
