home of the saints burn down the walls
between spaces between friends
archaic angels pose in rows
and in my garden angels grow
they come inside only at night
interstatic sunbeams are the angels only storybook
they come inside only at night
interstatic sunbeams are the angels only storybook
friends
everybody sees everyone
they don’t bother wearing seat belts
to protect them from the wreck
they’ve already died in the california demise