Count the doves in the 7pm pink,nostalgic sky
Watch them blend in harmony with tricoloured flags
As crips yellow leaves fall in the backdrop
As faint chimes heard from a distant

Worship at dawn, spew venom at dusk
Our brains preserved in jars, our hearts kept on shelves
Hostages to pale white buildings are we not
Decoding the labryinth that ends at the halo

A sip of whiskey to regain my conciousness
A drop of blood to blind myself back again
Anxiously search for the poisoned apple
Disguising itself in the shine of its benevolence

The smell of incense and ashes embrace my body yet haunts my soul
Amplifying my thoughts provoked by your blood and meat
My picnic basket holds my fears and not your blessings
At least for an evening, let me escape
At least for a night, let me liberate myself from being your child.