An inquisition to toss you in your sleep:
My lovely I could see your feigns from here
I took my wallet but I meant to leave my keys
I cursed the wooden panels creaking screams
Oh, and you said, "There's buried gold
And the tigers wait for us!"
Now the summer gra** will move here
As they lick their chops for blood
I left the beach house and I saw a thousand lights
A part of every shell that weathered waves
The moon in labor as it birthed a silver Earth
And all the while warring nervous saints