Dirty Hole
Jon Crosby
I saw the grave stones
I saw nine year old boys
Somehow I knew
They hated me
You can live as long as
You want to live
Lately all I want
Is to be in your hole
Sleep without a dream
As cold as it seems
It's my destiny
How many men have been
In your sacred hole?
How many dead men, God?
As I spread her thighs
My life flashes before my eyes
Soothing, disturbing
I'm intoxicated with fear
How many men have died
In your dirty hole?
How many men lay dead
From this killing hole?