Escapism is a favored pastime
Only rhythm  can force a rhyme
Seven sets of open packets breathe
One green bottle is proud to lead

An empty glass has closed its vision
in anticipation of a real decision
Laughter ran into a closed and locked door
It made me smile as it fell to the floor

Hark the warnings of yesteryear
whispered from dead lips into a closed ear
When last time was a face, not a place
and all good dreams were laid to waste

Step gently onto the astral plane
when there is nothing left to gain
So many bitter pills can change the past
Coming second is like coming last

I give you my breath to light the fire
and sink into a long ago desire
With tools to unravel the bonds of Love
its easy enough to dispose of