We Were Dead Before the Ship Sank

Language we possibly invent

Under the direction of all the weary birds

Who call down doom, those fly-blown

Half-broke angels of dawn 

Call down doom.

We sing that song. 

The effect is lust.

It gives us what we want to know,

What we don't know

Why we feel this soft, 

This cat-nosey day.

This day we can't 

Stay on a boat in Michigan,

We can't stay here 

Listening to the Old Man’s radio—O,

Muskegon, dirty old town,

Turns up the volume.

The rest of the summer will be

The best we ever had, we say,

This word's true. We want

A day that's true, is what we say

To ourselves.

We say that to ourselves.

To me next to you, if we wonder if

We make a list of all 

The persons we have harmed—

If we had a word 

More worthy than

The yearning and 

All the cigarillos burning in

This narcissistic dance hall—

These dull stars in this dim room.

If only we had a word  

To give us all.

And we rip these tattered syllables

From our bleeding palms, 

From what we call another— 

These unwrapped gifts we

Stole from our mothers— 

From what we call

Could call

Worse than we'll ever know.

Ever know,

Ever o-o-o-o know.