Boys run like water from the barrow to the trough They'll never stop their running Gunning for their brothers This house is a hostel It is peaceful but it's always emptying Boys all want to be someone
Haven't you heard? I am a flightless bird I am a liar, feeding the facts to false fires Pathos is born, born out of bullshit In formal attire But I'll score your string ensemble
The shutters made projections on his naked frame But now at twenty-five, he simply cannot stay away From the ketamine With make-up on his sores He spends an hour a day composing his own eulogy Sometimes he sends me letters But they're mostly garbled phrases and apologies
Haven't you heard? I am a flightless bird, I am a liar Feeding the facts to false fires Pathos is borne, borne out of bullshit in formal attire Append a Bulgarian children's choir
Boys run like water from the barrow to the trough They'll never stop their running Gunning for their brothers