There’s a tree on a beach I’v never been to. There’s drunks and the stench of damp sex in air. There’s hell, whatever and wherever that may be. Sometimes I think hell’s with me but mostly I drift in and out of heaven. Maybe I’m a liar or maybe I’ve grown so accustom to hell. Does it matter? Our words may be different but our worlds collide like there’s nothing else that matters. So just give me your soul and that will do.