Wearing my words, she holdse far.
Fist aflame against her men,
as she stands in fingers and teeth
and ribs breaking skull.

But, oh...

How could less be more when
all that she has ever wanted
is writing this for her?

But oh...

If she only knew
all I've gone through,
skies of red,
and dreams of blue.

But oh...

In refrain like a sad song
that tears fall gently from,
is all that this boy has
for the night.

And so I beat my fists,
aflame,
on my pillow
praying my hair
catches fire.