Upon this same rock
where I have carved my name
for the world to the sea.
Is the path of the moon
rocking its shadows on her back
telling stars of my weakness.
I am a Jew to these prayers
mailed through the mean man.
They will never get answered
so long its enveloped by spit
a colourless word out of my mouth.
Shall my head find the winds to rest
when I worry about my nest?
Go your seperate way
you baggage of hurt
the tales of love, the tail of the future
carry your fear and leave me alone
to drink and get drunk on myself
and my guts in the hands of my gods.
This is the way I have cleared for you
through the pots that hold the mud waters of gold.