Shortwinded bliss
That's all this ever is
Riding on highs
And hair dyes
The time machine resides corrupt in the pantry
Hysterical light passes through my skull
I am not awake

I can pretend to have fallen numb to my burning chest
My gypsy words (and my taroc pack & my taroc pack)
Flames in the woods - that's all it comes down to
This is tragedy in its truest form