Me, The Misser, The Late - The Wrens

Entry hundred forty-one me, the misser, the late

Miss years to make words of what I’m missing

Shame I’m shaking, a loss, a crap

Hung by heartwrack in the grasslands me, the pridest, the slack

Come through rain through window new approval seas a headrest, a home a peace

Having all my needies covered me, the hoper, the hole

Family leaver, shit repeater and a rancid grudge-hold

Entry hundred forty-one starts back when I dared

God knock me down again not a single thing I’ve done meant a scrap

Changed the stance of anyone thought by now I’d left the barn

But I’m scared the fields, and I’m scared the houses, I’m scared the millers

yard