Beneath this foul of slum and doom
The waking cries that come too soon
Where false dreams wander 'neath your skin
To bring your depths back up again
For shallow graves of thought repast
Shield us from the doubt they cast
13 lie beneath these tombs
Where outcasts stand and anger looms
It hooks my mind this silver spoon
Scratched into this marred Dead Moon


From: Thirteen Off My Hook (1990)

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