They estimate the falling sun and the Orphists
plight stimulated no one.
So call me on no sleep with just a little something
to remind us what to do:
If you run, run like hell, and remember there's history;
And if they don't believe you, just send them back to me.
Because they can't deny.
They just have to see that
the roots and the ruins are the same thing.
I often hear the new poetry from your
scratchy throat at quarter-after-three.
That's when I know I owe this to you,
as autumn owes the trees,
with their roots still strong,
from the ruins of some stray seed.
Look out for guns.
Look out for girls,
and other stories that could tear apart our world.
And no matter what you do, I will look out for you.
