Waxen nun in her bed
"I had to do it," she said
If you let a child be a child
You ain't doing her no favors in the end
Which brings us to her portrait
The photograph
Of the orphan they ripped
In half
And left what was left
In the forest
A hell of which there is no name
Most love comes around
Second-hand
It's a starving age, better take
Take what you can
And, maybe you've been orphaned
Unforgivably, if so, I bet you know
Of some traditional wretch you left
To catch her death out in the snow
So
Unhappy child
Flash me your rottweiler smile
Don't let no modern kinda love
Bring you down
There's plenty of
Decent tail in this town
Did you grow up in a trailer park?
Did you grow up
In an immaculate and humorless place
Where the holy spirit, when you came crawling in
Turned away his face?
There are some parents
Whose children long for divorce
There are some parents
Whose children long for divorce
There are some parents
Whose children long
Now that you've buried your head
In this time
Where the dust sharp and fine
Rises from the mouth
Of the diamond mine
Where hungry pickaxes tear at the rind
And cut men up from the inside
Oh, gun-toting urchin
What do you need?
Oh, it's nothing
She ain't coming
Back to me
Marrow-knowing orphan
What can I bring?
Oh, it's nothing
He already took
Everything