One Two Three
His grip tightens. Corrupt. Corpus.
You forget the bad water.
1991, uranium.
This cracked skin was a river-
I have human value- if...
Woman is God, veiled.
Uncover, recover, uncover again.
Exile from body,
Prohibit my use.
My memory is mist,
But I can hold my brother,
And I can age- very easily, see?
Oil is not rain, suffering is not pain-
No solution, no salute.
Only war, and abandoning.
Such fabric wraps me.
Art is not money, art is not money.
It is not.
It is not. It is not.
It can not be money.
Please.
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