Mother gazelle, father horse The mender, the hill and the mire Galloping hard the same course Aiming farther and higher
I fear that I can’t I’m sweating for bread Sweating to get out of bed
I kept the hoofs that stomped the Lilac I shed my mane for you Delilahs You wrote on parchments of my skin You stuffed and glued my head in nylon
Mother gazelle, father horse I was shot by the hunt’s dull ambition You can plaster and lime all you want But my reek from the walls will never leave And you’ll know I was right all along Statues made love – stitches were born You’ll know I was right all along!
Sincerely yours, Your trim headed son, The lion that failed everyone.