(Spoken)

Sunk in the turgid mud
I keel and squat in foot long [bad word] Toward to only place I feel no shame
Or bitten by the buzzing stare that cuts
Across the surface of the stagnant swamp
Here three days no sun or rain
Breaks the mists that cling to my face
No will to speed up or despair to drown
Just constant ghosts in seas of brown
Just four [bad word] away from my sacred place
My page is tugged with desperate will
And a scream pukes from my lungs

I wrench apart the vine and root
That keeps me from [bad word] sound
Of falling rain and the warmth of steely sun

I find dismayed the tortured land
Of burning bone and seared flesh echoing
My former home, obliteration, of stubborn hope
Forgotten nothing save of savaged love
Of life depraved

I close my eyes and fall away
Back into the swamp to sleep, to dream, forget
To float back where I woke in the turgid muck again
To start my [bad word] again

(Sung)

No hope in jokes no hope for old rope
Keep me peeling to stop me revealing me filthy relieving and only deceiving me keep me from peeling me stop me revealing me relieving and only deceiving myself.