Origin

If I went home   Damn these feet down that little road   She takes me to sour waters , honey used to be .  Bakers swept what little nostalgia was left in that little kitchen.  Ancient hickory creaked while shadows tried to keep hush in the mid night .  Feral chipped walls cried for the many nights that died .  When sleep was nowhere to be found , those hades eyes and serpent tail headed the halls .  No grace was round those fences , she poured out into the next day .