Prayer (Desperate)
Whenever I saw your soul in the white snow: legs spread for love The beggarly angel of the fir tree picks by handfuls our shadows no my God kind of scared The sun is rising with the dullness of Medusa’s chopped off head The last series of Paradise is being run on the telly The exile with blood more skittish than the last candle in the blind yolk of the dark 2000 *** Written January 20th, 2002 © on Jan 20 2002 09:41 AM PST 20 • 0 • 16
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Whenever I saw..."