Catherine De Barra

.
.

You've murdered my thinking
I gave you my heart, you left the thing stinking

I'd shake from your spell if it weren't for my drinking

And the wind bites more bitter with each light of morning.

I envy the road, the ground you tread under,

I envy the wind, your hair riding over,

I envy the pillow, your head rests and slumbers,

I envy to murderous, envy your lover

'til the light shines on me

I damn to hell every second you breathe