Was it always there, or contracted?
Was it just the thought
Oh, the life you lead
Leads you to distraction
Confusing your desires
With
so they say only good wine leaves a stain
on the
I looked up and picked out a map in the
i can see your years in my reflection
dancing cracks embedded
No lack of evidence
Or a lasting impression
All the love I
Lift your head from wild and wicked sleep
where seven-headed serpents
You always knew what you wanted
in fact you always fawn
There's a river that parts the valley of this town,
Basking in low gravity, in a fog.
Wilting in your levity.
Whitewashing
lost in colors
painted with silver dice
printed on fading sheets
with yellows,
Let me make you an offer
Take the glass from this
A thousand points of light
Are flowing through the streets
Painting streaks
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