Your blood owns no bones
With mailmen in your home
Holding a knife to your poems
Po o o o o o o o o o o o o o ems
To hollow all you're sown
And holler Goner, you're owned!
Your blood owns no bones
With mailmen in your home
Holding a knife to your poems
To hollow all you're sown
And holler Goner, you're owned!

And supposing you was meant to be bent born some sort of law man
With the poise of an intellectual and a hunch of a clerk
Because disposition of a saint they'd say
He's cancel eye and ever correct
And knowing that, now are you less
In the ever so complicated endeavor of a human death

There are only two species set to death on Earth
The creature of choice
And the creature ; There are only two species set to death on earth
(x2)

Where in the human
Are you?

There are two sweet seeds on Earth
There are two sweet seeds on
There are two sweet seeds on
There are two

And supposing you was meant to be bent sole keeper
Of the one kilometer-long list of things certain to be so
The human plight right there in 1s and Os
And he who knows all that's owed
You'd think would be considerably more fearless
Unless, of course, he feels this
Heat of something coming to adjust his
Eminence accordingly

To go on stealing poems
From the homed
Armed with only a key comb
Letter opener carved from bone wish
With which to pick
The simple levers of locks
To fly things well beyond the eye on high sky of your clock

Your blood owns no bones
With mailmen in your home
Holding a knife to your poems
Po o o o o o o o o o o o o o ems
To hollow all you're sown
And holler Goner, you're owned!
Your blood owns no bones
With mailmen in your home
Holding a knife to your poems
To hollow all you're sown
And holler Goner, you're owned!

Are. To the Po o o o o o o o ems (x3)

A sunset interjects

They'll walk to the (x2)
I'm fine down here
(x2)

Cut the fabric of the black