Betwixt is a word that only poets may use.

We are among the unlucky ones
Abundant silence siphons your soul
In slow-motion we roll on the pavement
Making snow-angels on the concrete
The heat of day gives way to icy treats
We buy them with money from your pocketbook
You are confused by this corruption
Its controlling our moods and our mouths
Until we see sparrows come out of them
I am half asleep in your window sill
Please shut me out and i’ll return with music and vinegar
We are the rolling hips of Elvis’ illegitimate children
You shook me to my soul until i needed a vacation
We are all born chasing spiders
Into the heartbeat of deceit's oblivion

We are crazy to be innocent but crazier not to wait
For love to break out of it's eternal cage
And deny the rage we placed there in it's place
A fate too hard to comprehend lest we go insane in vain
We remain sitting on the ground of approximations
Fascinated with form as lovers long to warm their bodies
And practice turning symbolic apples into complicated stories

Meaning is inundated with quaint and complex things
We feel hesitant so we shake in the shoes worn by our shadows
The mood is ruined so now we must defend our happy endings
Never minding the unwinding of our bodies in the dawn
We are formed from stolen letters torn from pages of your magazines
And sworn to secrecy about our unholy beginnings
Lest we reveal the form of magic that’s transparent
And bears not a trace of wasted resemblance to our fathers
We were placed safely in our feelings which alone makes us worthy of our innocence

We are alienated by our namesakes
Yet we can’t complain about our problems
We make mistakes and if it's painful, maybe
One day, we'll learn another way to say I'm sorry