Luyện nghe bài hát Maps In Her Wrists And Arms

In the tent of and lace
Vultures pick at a carcass feeds by hand
Longing to
Waits to the sound
Of their slowly heave as they fly away
Some stay for days
There's maps in her wrists and
And the dust lies snow around the bed
Glowing white, a sculpture of
Or a jewel a crumpled, distorted moon
Shivers in her
If she too near
It shatters so quickly, nothing behind
The old sighs
Sometimes when she lifts her
The room has filled flowing sheets of silk
There's maps in her and arms
And the morphine terror bread and bliss
In the of powder and lace
She can hear violins, watches the strings
through the room