Cy Twombly by Campfire - The Low Anthem

When the silky firelight’s done

A number on our outlines

For a spell you look like Cy

Twombly spills his midnight

Grass and minerals run these hazy hills

Hear their slinky laughter drift

In to milky firelight

Versed in every spin of Old English

Topple two pod inkdish

Rolls the Rorschach legged inkfish

Inside, in Cy,

Clo pah di

Botanica

Cy Twombly spills his coffee

Who do you shake your ledgers at me

When the silky firelights done

A number on our outlines