Please eternally forever forgive us when we pry,
Our memories recording your moves through the sheets of night
the loneliest alone, and watching the saddest of men cry.
Taking extensive notes and seeking shelter to remain dry
Frivolously with purpose blocking all remnants of daylight,
Harder our focus, recording silenced, as we learn with every eye, to exponentially pry.
Grinning ear to ear as we watch good men, blue lit, smoke and fry,
Our hands on the switch, waiting for them to give up the fight,
And be rid of your fear, we’ll wipe the water that your loved ones cry.
We’ll nibble our nicotine yellow, dead skinned lips, with teeth awry
and hold in our laughter, and calm our breaths, with all of our might,
For we try our best to be gentlemen and scholars, when we watch, as we pry
Alas, it is inevitable, no matter how hard we ever try,
We can’t help but sneak in shades of dark and give a little bite,
There is nothing like hearing that eternal wail, the first mournful cry.
So remember, as we are considered, in whisper, the human alderfly
that in dark shadows and alleys, in bed, and sleep, is where we pry,
because there is nothing like that eternal wail, the primal, the first, mournful cry.