Delerium Fade to Grey
Sailing on the wrong side of the sea,
which is nasty, which is mean.
I keep seein’ snakes slinking away from me.
I seen ‘em swim. Eels I guess they’d be,
like demons bein’ baptized in the murky green.
A snake for treachery, a snake for pain,
a snake with rats eyes, and dollar signs on its hide,
a snake with secret fangs.
Those snakes in the sea, that place supposed to be clean,
they come up in the nets and make bets with fishermen
as to which will meet the quicker end,
and what will be the hour.
the snakes place their bets, and win
through folly, favor or foul.
And which end is best?
The snakes would like to know.
Is is swift, like a blow to the skull
or a slow moan,
alone
on the bottom of a boat .
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