Stripping Cane - Jeffrey Foucault

There’s no more room for angels

To dance or even stand

Upon this pin entangled

Bleeding sugar from our hands

Bleeding ashes from our feet

Won’t you help me count my sheep

Won’t you help me count my sheep tonight

You make your heart a decoration

It’s like a broken violin

So carefully made empty

Taking only silence in

Taking saccharine to kill your pain

Won’t you help me stripping cane

Won’t you help me stripping cane tonight

Stripping cane for something sweet

Stripping cane, a man complete is born

His heart a thing to hold both dark and light

Stripping cane, no tongue can tell

The silent ring of this empty bell

Won’t you tell me fare thee well

Fare thee well tonight

I’ve got nowhere to go now

I’m like a bird in an eclipse

And the grammar of our bodies

Breathing poems to our lips

Breathing verses out of rhyme

Won’t you help me killing time

Won’t you help me killing time tonight

There’s no more room for angels

To dance or even stand

Upon this pin entangled

Bleeding sugar from our hands

Bleeding ashes from our feet

Won’t you help me count my sheep

Won’t you help me count my sheep tonight

Won’t you help me count my sheep tonight

Won’t you help me