Listen to the bed of withered roses
Listen to the shadows dancing at night
You are alright, Yes you are alright.
Where did you stash your synchronicity?
Speak to the walls and tell them your stories
The wallpaper scorches and peels from ash
Only you can pass, only you can pass.
The machine’s weight grows heavy with old age.
The mirror reflects the story’s villain
Camouflage the white linoleum floor
I’m waiting for more, I’m waiting for more.
This blanket feels warmer when it is damp.
Chronic nostalgia bleeds the willow dry
Concrete structures blot out the sun’s embrace
You will stop this soon it is just a phase.
Or so the middle-aged ghost story goes.