Baion
Zachary F Condon
It waits for no soul
It's too late in the cold
It rains, listen now
Hang your tools and lay down
Oh, since you've gone
I don't know what's gone wrong
I wait in the bed
Near the stairs in my head
And I, full of scorn
Laid you down on my thorns
I wish to be gone
I bite hard on my tongue
