Cold eyes hang above an overcast
bed and my arms indent
this tainted spread.
One more time, pressing down
and I have no will but
the want to have this second still.

And so I stay, but should I leave?
Rather than be pressed
and have my mind sieve
the minutes through
a darkened room, alone and
cold and unsure but you

You make me stay, how? Who knows?
As long as we're drifting
across this stormy ocean - tossed about,
I'm close to broken. But bruised and beaten
and battered blue? The appeal's there.
I'll stay forever, provided you swear.

And so I lay, contemplating my friends
and sanity, but O, what is
my concious thought? All I could say
could still be sought when all
is done and the scene is closed,
I shiver and sigh and do not know.