lost my fight with fate, a tug of war of leave & stay / i give in, i abdicate, i’d lay my sword down anyway. / i’ll see you at heaven’s gate, ‘cause it’s too little, way too late.
two—headed boy, she is all you could need.
she will feed you tomatoes and radiowire
& retire to sheets, safe and clean. / but don't hate her when she gets up to leave.