There are bats all dissolving in a row, oh,
via • linkinto the wishy-washy dark that cannot let go.
And I cannot let go,
so I thank the Lord
and I thank His sword,
though it be mincing up the morning, slightly bored.
Oh, morning without warning like a hole.
And I watch you go.
There are some mornings when the sky looks like a road.
There are some dragons who were built to have and hold.
And some machines are dropped from great heights lovingly,
and some great bellies ache with many bumblebees
(and they sting so terribly).
