deepundergroundpoetry.com
Now You Die
In the corner of my eye, whiskey rye
Black tie in Brunei on a twilight in July
Widow whispering, come to me, aye
With two fingers of sweet Mordecai
On my chest now rest the blowfly
Robbing me of my silver now you die
Until I cry and age in oak, by and by
With no more flesh given to fry
Black tie in Brunei on a twilight in July
Widow whispering, come to me, aye
With two fingers of sweet Mordecai
On my chest now rest the blowfly
Robbing me of my silver now you die
Until I cry and age in oak, by and by
With no more flesh given to fry
Published 25th Nov 2024
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25th Nov 2024 10:25pm
25th Nov 2024 10:30pm
28th Nov 2024 00:57am
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