Write me in,

Beirut,

Stake sane drums with pins,

Keep the cash coming cold in straight coffins.

Lead lap dogs,

Buy the fires,

Bound in drought

Sleeping light

Real sale whole, cracking shells,

Echo night.

Echo night

Summer shins don’t want color

Wash me

Cleaner’s call

A new “A” bomb

The end

 Sent me sands,

 to meet you.

When the eye

That we dwell upon

Wets a spot  in time.

And the soldiers march back to their graves

My dull cheek

Milky sweat

Begs a tear

But I can’t

Cause the salt

Dries me out.