To leisure with a grounded flake
Unconscious from the turpentine.
I've held my head like this before
By way of three cases of wine.

A night with breeze as cold as I
And noises echo through the plain.
A cry for faith in candy canes
Religion with a slight refrain.

A cross oppressed
By symbolic imprisonment
Flirts with a symbol twice it's size.
Crooked on all counts
These fish swim together
Gills laced with arson and concubines.

To bare a scar as opposition
Leaves my skin a rigid tool.
To extract my anger from my action
Would leave me sterile as a farming mule.