Under the glow of an imitation violet night
I sketched the nightmare of a violent smite
Her cigarette was burning in a pepsi can ash tray
What could've been night was actually day
We sat together on that old dust covered floor
Below a leaky windowsill and a broken door
What is it? she said to me
An ancient lagoon and willow trees
I was searching the paper for something to please
But I remembered the feeling of being empty
I pulled up the blanket and it became day
She wasn't there and I had made a mistake
Willow trees and an ancient lagoon
The place where I married her and buried her too