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Lower Dens

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Lower Dens

Hospice Gates

On the hill adorned in dew,
I miss seeing you through your den of verse.
In the clinic stall they've confined me to.
Loose the noose I wear and I'll run away with you.
All riled,
Night's young,
I lunge,
Gutted on hospice gates.
Into these rooms,
Your bawdy verses boom.
'If you don't know me now,
You'll know me soon.'
All riled,
Night's young,
I lunge,
Gutted on hospice gates.