October Moons, Vineyards, and Graveyards

I spent most of last night digging up graves
for the corpses of all my memories
Sweat out the fever
I am the salt applied directly to your wounds
Wind my eyes back
and let them roll in reverse
My ears are going deaf
like Piccaso's but worse
And my back is getting heavy from the weight of the world
I drive the hearse and pick you up
under October Moons

Im my own firestorm
I'll burn the vineyard with kerosene and spit
On you like a dose of atrophine
this is the end of the wick
Its midnight and the rhythm to the chaos is you
And here's me on the left wishing you didn't look so good

I am not now nor will I ever be as eloquent as I imagined
but the words I have will get the job done
I am a testament to "Nice guys finish last"

come hell or high water
the dead ringer of the boy I thought I am
I'm an eighty six on high.

You were a carousel head on prescription med
wedlocked to my heart but never through a shotgun
there is a chapel in every hospital in my world
And, like an orphanage, it takes in every corner sitting coffin
You were the rarest delight in this stupid town
But that locket you wear continues to put me down
And I dont look so good in blue to be honest

Your diving like a swan into the pond that was the chasm
between us
Will you be my cancer? My hell in a handbasket?
I'll take the stars and put them back in your eyes
when we were in these happy hollows
we were so hollow inside
You are the sountrack to the nights I will never remember
with the friends I will never forget
its times like these I wish would never end
but all good things must come to an end

In case you were wondering