Years ago when life was innocent
setting the table was an act of love.
I would look out the window and see
setting the table was an act of love.
I would look out the window and see
a future of broken dishes,
the stale smell of malt and whiskey,
or feel the prick of a needle
.the stale smell of malt and whiskey,
or feel the prick of a needle
No, my gaze didn’t see that far out
around curves and high hills,
inside potholes down hell holes.
around curves and high hills,
inside potholes down hell holes.
Setting the table was an act of love.
Now looking out between iron bars
I yearn to perform that act of love.
Now looking out between iron bars
I yearn to perform that act of love.
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