Only few can make one Lean, some sewn tight, restless and clean.
From the collar of bone knowing and sure
From the mark of the meek honest and pure.
My morning gallows, your wading pool
I am on the watchtower, you are so new.
An incision by gaslight, a song by the brick
I’ll make you sing, you’ll make me quick.
A band of stars, an arrow shot through
Your fingers trace paper, looking for clues.
My midnight prayers, your single braid
All which was lost has now been repaid
Justin Dean Thomas