IV A DECENT MAN
A GOOD FRIDAY SPELL
There'll be no burdens to darken the green
A place of living brought an ordeal
Here's the coffin you know
Where are we going tonight, who'll ask
Hey, branches are trying to get out of there
And I'm fond of the weather
Yes, what a truth it was
You'd never seen me that silent
The wet evening street,
Vanity clear and stretching away
To work upon it coherent
Remember that line of old-fashioned lamps
I couldn't tell you anything, with a broken habit
And the grey wall followed in the left
I let it all rain down of course
And how long it took
Just a spell to get myself in order
I was right in that it works
And wrong in a few other things
The bleached and our resentment
Think it as a kind of secret
I've tried so much, and are you going
To watch these steps hoping that I'll grieve