You will drink my blood And you'll wish you hadn't You will break your bones All your little bones In the gulf of Florida where your mom was born And the baby's crying all of the time You will write me letter after letter About the dull Novembers and January February March Decembers that come afterwards But I won't even open up the motherfuckers I could give a fuck about what the ink is dribbling And all the ways that you are still remembering.