A moth's carrying your face on mosaic metal wings, half of mine inside
drummer boy, she's in a long, black dress
drummer boy, don't drink the brack water
I didn't look up this time, so I guess I never saw it

The hot air balloon transporting a house with a bird in a cage inside
Tall plant growing through the sky, into space
The sun as its face of flower, petals falling and an insect mouth
There's horns on every building where people store their god and the stars discontent with simmering fires, coming closer to the forests
and goddess flies over towers and ugly stock remains undoused.

You cannot swim through the sea of letters in my head
I sent you only two, anyway and I don't know what now
Hearts grow skew and the plant twists, one root to your door
Right into the foyer where your wheels stand, now capped with cold
This river in me is colored by the cracks in your last sentence.

And as you're well aware, some deer skitter toward water's edge
to counter a thirst of madness, peaking to a frightening fall
I'd do well to break this branch, bugs in the mouth again and
some peepholes don't ever speak but see.