when we lie white in our mourning slumber 
when our skin smells of sun 
the filthy mass that moves and talks 
is swept into the sea, is gone 

when we are naked, when we're on fire 
when we render secret tribute to 
this pain we fake, this blue desire 
love is still our craving and our shame 

when [bad word] to me 
laughing and howling 
when they [bad word] their anguish into me 
and lick the blood as [bad word] down 
they don't give place to youthful bloom 
not then, not now 

in the leaves of blood, in the life of the tribe 
i am dead to all the world 
except when the noises sleep or hide