Angel of Meth

I's so drunk when I left the place
The walls were lined with skulls
Gorges ached to take my form
Shadows were busy being born--
Being born beneath my beard beneath the gulls

It was in November
When I sat and wrote her a letter
Roughshod and lovely that told her --
It was in autumn that I wrote her the letter
That by winter I regretted

Oh, me

It was late when I left the place
Light lived in the trees --
Sick sun thrown upward by a sea
Never again would she hear from me
It's hard to sing when you ain't breathing

Yawning chasm tempting my legs
As I walked onward, out of town
I just looked toward the rising sun
Never to see her again