THE BEAT
By Chris Whitley
Sat, 03 Feb 2007
- 1497 reads
Beat beat
The iron hearts jangle in sync to the sound of money
Voices fall from slashed flesh into beer glasses like slops
From their clinging fog and muck
They beat out time with hammers
Beat beat
I feel your blood pulsing through your veins
I smell your very powder
Your bluish eye cuts me down
Your stabbing words remain
Beat beat
Flightless birds flap aimlessly against nothing
Scanning the horizon watching emptiness limp by
The only sound is a cry
That bursts like a balloon in the ear
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