ripe for the picking, he arrives from the dark
lost in the distance, i arrive with open arms
tear through the thickest just to find a rotten core
count out your wishes, leave them sittin by the door
sleeping with the fishes, thought i'd find us somethin more
thought i'd find myself some stitches
thought i'd find you on the floor
one last condition
one final sore
one more tug and let the arrow finally soar
* * *
clean white covers
the noose's lovers
enshrine us and bind us
below us,, a forest
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