Ship of Spices

Cinnamon hands and surrendering truths
Brass buttons and illustrations in ink and coal
I sent you a flower in foil and ivory
You couldn't understand what I carved in the paper
It was soiled by the weather, tainted by the breath
of airplane fuel and jet line gas- it's fate
There is nothing more ordinary than a horse in full canter
Nothing more in decay than a boy raped by a poem
The smell of guilt and the taste of sand
Mixed with light as it shines in the eyes of inevitable pitch
And space is filled by bursting season, animals and war
There are a lot of villages to burn, a lot of castles to extend
All of the buses were late due to happy hour being cut
The knives were sharpened and ink was rubbed and smudged
The drums were drummed, the dogs were all groomed
I found your number written on the palm of the hand of the dead man
He was the singer in the band who broke the walls of the bathroom
My grandfather made those tiles from the clay in the old dam
My grandmother made the submarine he used to fetch the clay
And I made the fire that roasted the piano that the band never played
I never had a career, I only fostered thoughts of what should be shouldered
I was lame by the time a decade had passed
On medication and never acknowledged in the street
Only by the english doctor, only by the bare chested nurse
Pepper on your lips as the calendar falls, you never learnt to spell
you never learnt to speak in past tense, you touch your groin as the swelling grows
The horse treads in the puddle draining the mud
Mr Collins comes too, face down in the back of a toyota, mouth tasting of semen
Miss starlet, from hollywood y'know, she explains she escaped from prison
But she has to get to Rome, why, I don't know
What's the capital of Mexico? What do you say we sell our ship of spices?
Oh to have your psychedelic neurosis
To see what you see in the empty space of cloud expansion
I want to see my neighbour naked
I covet everything
Everything