Reaching to the infinity until the end of time
a bed of clouds wait for me under the plane
With her kind eyes, Mary waits for me
to wash my sins, wipe my blood away with her veil
And descend, crying, feeling small
that you have become just a memory
with blood spots on your veil
and my sins on your shoulder
far away
a bottle of liquor empties, a pitcher of sangria empties
she smokes a joint and smiles
and the lights go out
I wait for my salvation as I descend
with new sins
opting to hurt, opting to make my mother cry
opting to tire my self
from all that I do
I am tired
too tired to feel
her heaving bosom
bending down to wipe my feet
and wipe my tears
I am tired
