At the waterline, I came here like a spirit,
mixed in with and indistinguishable from the fog. I came to find you so we could drown the doubt in your heart.
But you said “better the devil you know, than a god who can’t hear you crying”
I stare at the water How many of god’s tears already fill our oceans
Sorrow for our folly.
If you ask me my name, maybe I’ll remember, you changed me from a willing friend
To a bullet in a revolver.