Don’t throw stones, they told me
I’m holding rocks that cut, hard, sharp
and they’re heavy hanging around my neck
my see through treasure in my see through cave-cage
only way is stay or go, but if I grow these walls must blow,
narrow, this shining stupid arrow – should I cling to or fling to?
dug bling from mud with blood, so I’ll stick it to gold rings
show you, love, my precious.