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• Artiste: Dark Meat
• Titre: Angel of Meth
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I's so drunk when I left the place The walls were lined with skulls Gorges ached to take my form Shadows were busy being born-- Being born beneath my beard beneath the gulls It was in November When I sat and wrote her a letter Roughshod and lovely that told her -- It was in autumn that I wrote her the letter That by winter I regretted Oh, me It was late when I left the place Light lived in the trees -- Sick sun thrown upward by a sea Never again would she hear from me It's hard to sing when you ain't breathing Yawning chasm tempting my legs As I walked onward, out of town I just looked toward the rising sun Never to see her again