Listening to The Smiths in the Dark

I'll measure the water in your lungs

don't sputter it out before I'm done

fade to black and blue

death is now in bloom

cut off the blood that made you sick

reading your vital signs with a prick

fading back into

comforts of an empty room

holding on to what I've lost

through another couple shots

swimming in the moon

drowning through and through

kick to the curb your sense of ease

looking into your eyes like trees

told to live anew

but I'm too dead to move