|
Down where this ugly man |
|
Seeks his sustenance |
|
Down in the blue, midnight flare |
|
A glass hand cuts through the water |
|
Scything into his twisted roots |
|
Then from his eyes |
|
Spring fireflies |
|
Breathing life |
|
Into a roaring disguise |
|
Needles and sins, sins and needles |
|
He's gasping for air |
|
In the wishing well |
|
Dust to rust, ashes to gashes |
|
Hand around the killing jar |
|
A soft hoodwink of shadow |
|
The size of make-believe |
|
Punches through his spike of rage |
|
A glass hand cuts through the water |
|
Snuffing out the magic fury |
|
Then from inside |
|
Bolt lightning cries |
|
Swiftly crushed |
|
The final, muffled sighs |
|
Needles and sins, sins and needles |
|
He's gasping for air |
|
In the wishing well |
|
Dust to rust, ashes to gashes |
|
Hand around the killing jar |
