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Faces of the likely imagined childhood |
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carousel around her carousel to pieces, pieces |
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this white knuckle bound dream is |
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screamed to halt so suddenly |
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in hunt for closure we ride, day and night |
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She's panting the rapture |
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one stroke to define everything |
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in feverish color she constructs her multiverse |
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manic ties to lead this multiplicity in stride |
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an error of a lifetime she let herself go |
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this light will always remain the same to us, to everything |
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I haven't the faintest of ideas |
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of how to stop myself |
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you've got to recede back to the skies of life |
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and waterless lungs |
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the siren is calling you to your death |
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thankfully her lover for the ocean |
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keeps her in place |
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I've only got one last piece of work in line to, |
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to usher in the new era |
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shew offer to redefine your color, your pride, |
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your everything |
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its already to late for those men they'll forever be fucked |
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she's the kind of blade you didn't know existed |
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you've already bled out to her before you even met |
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this monopoly is held and she's in league with nature |
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the unfolding of her spectrum has thoughts for us. |
