To pour on my veins
I need some sun to warm me
I need a good fuck
Or a taste-freeze
At the drive-through mountain
I need all of Hereford Cathedral
Or half of Beauvais
With those Maltese Falcon hor d’oeuvres
Served at a real coconut grove
On the Bay of Fugitives
At three in the morning
I need some memory of you
Not some wind-blown scrap
That brings it all back
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