Helium halos fade,
So often I'm awake in my coffin,
Coughing out a blackened soul,
A stop sign nailed on chest,
This is the crossroads,
To an unknown wasteland,
Where the angels are hung from cactuses,
A fire struck the marker holder in the chalkboard sky,
And there lit a billion, brilliant stellar matches,
Now where do I go,
Away from this desperation,
Away from the smiles,
Of fertilized desecration,