You are bounding music spilling over into chaos
You are noir petals unfolding beneath my skin

You are the guiding hand of a storied man
And a baby nestled in the warm crescent of a mother's arm

We have become our own insanity,
Built up walls of denial are wearing away as we blow the wind

The distance between us is shrinking and expanding
Time and space tore themselves apart, just for us

Godless wretches swinging through the cosmos
We feed ourselves a good story
But even good stories aren't free
But maybe it depends on your perspective.