Michael is Done

Now Michael is done, stripped bare of pretense Soaking his sheets while counting insects He's a grid on the sun, he's the hate in the love Every hole is a leak when Michael does speak But Michael will win, there's a flame on his tongue His words are burned meat, to muscle and rend Now Michael will cloak every raft in his moat To speak is to choke, to leave is to come When the other has come, then Michael is done Is done, is done, is done, is done Is done, is done, is done, is done Is done, is done, is done While cracking his lens, he is breaking his hands Growing wings from his back, Michael sinks in his sack When Michael is gone, some other will come When the other has come, then Michael is done Is done, is done, is done, is done Is done, is done, is done