You asked and I said,
You’ve broken me like you'd broken bread.
‘Cause I am the chains that keep the monsters under your bed.
Living on the third story you’ve sent,
as cars roll away under my head.

Breathing down my neck will make you a cold-lipped killer baby.
Just staring you in the eyes, down past the black and blue, I know,
I know, I know you will be hitting my face.
It won’t clean out your mouth baby
so you just savor the taste.

The bottle cast up arcs through the air, hot and black with no starlight.
Glinting then gliding, flying over streetlights,
one, two, and twinkle, twinkle, shake, shake.
Tar, soft veins through the body of asphalt break
And drag me under.

Worthy, deserving,
not naturally, not normally, not me.
But if I can lift off your shadows
under morning stars,
cars would roll like gulls like me, out to the sea.