Open up till midnight   The butcher waits for someone?s desperation   That goes beyond control   Speaking is an invitation      Under fluorescent lights   You can?t wash out his desire   Where bodies are indecent   And they are not in decline      From behind the counter he thought   You whispered, you want more      Cut out the brights of the oncoming cars on the highway   Lightness is forced when you cut out the lines in the paper   Cut the split seconds   The ones over filled      When you thought you were caught with unknowable thrills   Instead you get absence   Soft haze in the face   The lines in your head, have to all be replaced      Cleave the dry stone to a promise   That an answer soon will follow   Grave attention is still focused   On the flashlight and the cold fortune      Down the streets on prospects   The butcher walks home   Orange in the streetlights   Even knows it in the dark   Proves it with his eyes closed      He puts his red coat, downstairs   Goes up into his bedroom   Undresses and folds his arms   As if it could impress you      From under the covers he thought   You whispered, you want more