Anne, let's die in some dim town
My brown eyes wait to weigh us down
The candles 'round the tub will drown in our afternoons
Music from our evening parlor
Darker than the autumn hour
Gave my child twenty dollars for tearing at our moons
Dark damp men muddied our house
In my dreams to bleed your blouse
I smiled from my sleep to douse the horror of this hour
Our boy on dark hills, blurry, crawling
His rain-glazed shaking porches falling
The homes of all his friends just sprawling withering like flowers
Anne, I've loved you from a boy
No other autumn could destroy
The town our winds fused to enjoy, whispering dark farmlands
Tearing moons, these moons are tearing
Swearing terror inside their daring
Crumbling prayers, dark autumns faring, straight out of our hands