Go, just put me in the ground
I'm just another hound waiting for his meal
A bone, a breast, a plate of meat
Something guttered from the street
To consume the void
I don't mean to give you anything
Less than you deserve
But my mind's a map of markers
Where I should have turned
Away from alleys with shadows on the wall
Who's that pilgrim going down, down, down?
Time's gasps have filled my lungs
When visions of warring tongues
Have pierced the calming mind
Like disease mixing with your blood
Like puddles forming floods or rivers
Wild and free
I am not a painter
Or a prophet here to lead
To where the wine is served to masses
More in need
Who sleep 'neath sirens
Who hear the caws
Of "who's that pilgrim going down, down, down?"
So bite the bedspread
Lock in your claws
Crack the pennies stacked in little piles against the walls
Dissolve your eyelids
Then unfix your mouth
Who's that pilgrim going down, down, down?
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