It felt like I was walkin swift, out in snowy drift my thumb stickin out, just lookin for a lift and I'm going on and on along this icy road, where nobody should be driving and there's not a single flower thriving, just a sorry soul stuck diving into vacuous space, with a deadpan face an intricate lace, and a now unhurried pace shuffle shuffle thumb down
a single thread, black thin and bare floating adrift, in starlit air unattached
a single layer, not enough
cold pink hands in bottomless pockets, filled with keys to lost lockets with tick tocks and tickets, bits of tobacco, and crumpled up paper
so lift yourself to lift the veil, but lift yourself to no avail, and it's no matter if you succeed or fail
it's a silly serpent biting it's own tail. it has no need for anything else.