Door’s open, walk into a hallway to cinnamon scents
And broken candies scattered on the table
I felt all your rays beneath the beats that brought me home
Back to gas fire places and engraved wooden floors
In these panels you kept secrets that telephone calls cannot decode
And we’re thunderstorms again
Through letters and postage stamps you learned that
Bones and old maps of veins don’t like being set on fire
In waters made of dust particles and stale sunshine
You could be planting exit signs on the stones you trip over
And the words you burn under your tongue
Silver coated and kissed with burning coal
You missed a step but this is your firewood
Just remember to take your lighter with you the next time you leave