Amarinthe - William Patrick Corgan

It brays, it slays, it neighs at most when fleet

Adorned by morns and may, I spak my peace

But tugged along any dray colt

Sups his flowered seas

Where daft desires the feathers out of mines

Fly all but time here

Take what you had

Yet I can’t vouch for what’s real or false on that

This trail of tears we’ve blacked

So sudden, cold morning, slow

Cool morning, so sudden, slow

Cool morning, slow

Vouchsafed it rains, it rails, yes love reeks

From sails it turns to toasts, and I kick my keep

And starved we’ll mother the other

Parsing one of each

Whence twined desires and gingham clementines

Fly all but time here

Think what you had

But I can’t vouch for what’s real or false on that

This trail of tears we’ve blacked

So sudden, cold morning, slow

Cool morning, so sudden, slow

So sudden, cold morning, slow

Cool morning, so sudden, slow

Cool morning, slow