I feel like I'm using you
Using roses for the rest
Adapting to the amok
Beautiful is the sea in stormy rain
Don't call my name, don't break my poem
Into one, finding devils on the crossroads too
Riders on the twelfth note of the funeral rite
Femme fatale fetching pale looks, blue eyes read the red headlines
Finding they hath get older than angels of desperados, despair shadows rising on the mojo, searching looks in red herrings