It Wasn't I Who Filled All Those Holes Poem by James McLain

I was that type you thought,
And I have not had sex, since I left her.
She thought I would beg, men don't weep
So I talked about holes I would wash.

Knowing this dream's we share,
Not those of ambition, nor those of deciet
When I'm there.

Being hurt and you have, could it not be,
Why as dry as the sand, you now are?
I would lift your curse, the curse of the ring,
Where snow when it melts, caused you tear's.

Angels at night fill the sky and the moon
When it's full needs two hands.
You burried my ghost in-between, so
Such as it is, when the smoke's in your face,
And the fire as it burns, fills the sky.