from glassbomb@livejournal.com.
I would steal horses for you, if there were any left, give a dozen of the best to your father, the auto mechanic in the small town where you were born and where he will die in the dark. I am afraid of his hands, which have rebuilt more of the small parts of this world than I ever will. I would offer my sovereignty, take every promise as your final lie, the last point before we start refusing the exact. I would wrap us both in old blankets hold every disease tight against our skin.
We expected something, something better than before. We expected something more You were always waiting but I never had to hold you by the edges like I do now You were always waiting but I never had to hold you by the edges like I do now Walk away now and you’re gonna start a war