Crooked Mile - Planes Mistaken For Stars

From that bitter broken bitch

She pulled us back

To nurse on her silted tit

And pull us down to

Her rusted womb

To be unsung cogs fell to

Unmourned/unmarked tombs

We beat west (it beat us back)

We beat west for bluer skies and sweeter lies

We fell past the pale

And back through

The pulp and the pink

We made our beds and now

Like rust, we shall never sleep

So let us drink to the dreams

And the dreamers long dead and gone

Dead and gone

Between us, line up a shot

For every fight we’ve fought and lost

And let us pray, slowly tip

To the measuring line

To be fit for a box of pine