(Intro)

                                Impossible to win with memmemmmmm

Emily play(s)ed so bloody
brutal roughened up            but   jusst.     Touch       em-me

just    the slightest (what).    you   cringe-cringe   or     shrink   a    pinch and   (she)

crustssss  over   completely
storm-drain openings)                    
(crumbles into moth-dust

 

the  rust-and-razorle ss  flushed-out  muck up your     storm-drain   openings                          debris

     of (our)hurricane-torpedo  siren    s                /as if   they  serenaded/      (strangers) to oo

theirstranger
             placess.

foreign-nstance
-s       herheadcase(Emily'ss)>>>>>>is
packed and  checked andready  to             move          (stop poking at me, 
(you)
                           
and   giving us

both   away    a way
out

of
hiding

[but



 standing me-nowat>>>>>>>>>>attention<
>>now>          
                     these    bundledover sheaves   of

whaet,
(oh
(my),  they're   crushing
you too         my  sailor
boy;my mercenary    mavenn   inn    a
sweat-stained  mood
         

sweat-stained  mood
          to     be       reckoned

                                     with .      notice   howshe's  (callously)      touching

                                                            your
                                                             broken
                                               
                                                stringgsss
                    so far                            (you've kept)

                                   (them)
                                    (kindly)

                                                    to    your  side                                                     of the sheets   or

safe     from    

 

                                  ( selfish  )

 

                                            wishing-

                                            

                                                wells

 

                                                 (and) 

 

                                       wanting-

                                                    mores           and

 

                                               the      prick

 

                                                       of  the

 

                                       rough-rough

                touches   of

 

                                            her         (   )

                                                   digits

 

                                                      Gilt  City

population 658,000,000 and counting                    a    likely     explosion.
Boom mikes   and   stage     equipment          everywhere--------->  unmanned
armies

(our tunnels) look
safe
enough        (excepting the company)     we keep

            you catch       a   flash                 of
(me)
                            sawed-off   taillight           firelight
chemical    flame                             you          catch on  the   word conflag....       get the


drop your....                                 hide our

idiotfaces        from

 

oh---------------->             horrid .                                    Guilt       City

  so             predictable

the  hero           saves         the


holy  shrine
         of humanity    (yawn)                                 when

                                                                    alll
                                                                    that

                                        stands to
                                           reason        (here)is

busting shit   up

 

                                                              Leaving Gilt City (in

 

shivers
(and
splinters,)

you
board me
on your makeshift      aerocraft        (I’m)carrying
birds (puny   dumplingsstuffed and       sewn       inside
the
lining    (a   throwback from the
old  country  West  U.S.
of your  old)
old       winter  overcoat             it's
Evelyn's
             actually

 

                     and    both

                               of us     know it, too

mind

                                        but

 

                          you're kind  enough

                                                           not to
                                                        tell

me      everything   that's
 mangling       your  

               (Amelia)  Amelia
                                   Amelia           would

                                   
                 have      understood perfectly  amnd         you

look like you could use
some  oxygen         but

all   I   can
                 give  is          a     hand         on the thigh

                                                                       an  awkward suggestion,

                 the last
thing  you  want(ed)           except

                             for   it

 

                      (all      to   s top     and   end   up)

                                     

                               a   city

 

                             htat

                               finally

 

                              soaks   up

mud

 

                                          and     guts

                              and     everything      (ugly   enough

 

                                                 and truly she

 

                                                           knows

 

                                                            it  all         by

 

 

                                                                      

                                                               /rote/

 

 

                                                           emergency-warning       a

                                                       voice

 

                                                           over      the

 

                                                                        Dakotas

 

                                                                          our

 

                                                              (former)

                                                                     friends      to

 

  

 

                                                                the north