bear claw

fax me a copy of your split-ended soul,
and i'll send you your lungs in a brown paper bag.
listen to me, and i'll sing you a song.
i won't sing any notes that are sour or dull,
they will all be sung, baby for you.
phone me up and we'll talk,
just for hours on end.
you can tell me when you think we're through.
i'll write you a poem on your split-ended soul,
and fax it right back to your eyes.
it'll be short and sweet,
and i'll write it so neat.
but none of it will come as a suprise.
i want you to know, that i've now come to terms.
you're addiction is what feeds the worms.
you had me, and lost me, but you've still got one thing.
that creeping dependency.
can you think of a way to throw it in my face?
i know that it must all be my fault.
it's so sad, i'm so mad.
fuck me, this is so bad.
you've gone now and made me be coy.
i'm not going to just a toy.
the earth cracked and crumbled,
the air tasted stale,
and i had no clue why i was crushed.
i had to press on, and i heard my head break.
out leaked a stale grey mush.
i am tasteless and sightless,
and this sweet deprivation,
is pulling me in just to see.
it's one of those things that i'll never quite get.
so look at who's killing me.
you're pulling my tendoins,
the sinew and bone grind beneat my skin.
sweet transcendental. i'm fucking going mental.
what's the use. i'm sorry. you win?