I read your bones Like a brautigan poem Over and over I traced your shoulders And in the margins I took notes For your future lovers To discover Corbeau, untitled I read your bones Like prophetic stones Now I know your secrets You can't change what the ink says You were born to be adorned And I'd die to be buried on your sleeve Corbeau, unbridled I see the Sun Through all your clouds Not everyone's as lucky Or allowed I read your bones When no one was home I'm sorry for the last time