Mouth made of dried meat. Some mouths come over to me to lick up what I leave. Legs kicking the stream, parting the white waters out. It's the parting of everything. Maybe it's sex, maybe it's sexlessness, maybe it's doom. Maybe it's death, maybe it was your death, maybe it's doom. Right, this one feels right. One who was lost in the snow buried up from below. Right, wasn't I right? Humming some shit songs I wrote about the parting of everything. Away on an ash, your timeline could not be matched. This one, it's doom. Drowned in the lake with every stroke you take. Baby, it's doom. Called me the hex. I never said I was less. Maybe I’m doomed. Wasn't I right? Humming some shit songs I wrote about the parting of everything.
