and lovers lie and the
radio only ever plays static
the gift of all gods
is addiction
nothing left at the end of the day
but to fuck the blues away
a length of rope or a
line of coke and
she smiles once she’s made her choice
we take turns with the blindfold
we name the baby then we
raise it in a burning house
teach it right from
wrong at the water’s edge
a bitter kind of hope and
a beaten sort of faith
a lie between lovers
which i think i mentioned
which is all we really ever
need to make the sun
rise again
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