Put my eyes
Where I can see
Where the soul
Used to be
I feel the walls
Closing in on me

Shut my mouth
I take it back
It’s no way
For us to act
I missed the boat
But somehow sailed away

But that’s okay
I’ll have a talk
With this divebar
On a long walk
Along the shortest pier
And watch it disappear

There’s a hole
In my mind
Where the sun
Used to shine
Memories
In black and white

Cut me off
I’ve had enough
Infect the wound
And sew me up
No more words
...

But that’s okay
I’ll have a talk
With this divebar
On a long walk
Along the shortest pier
And watch it disappear

Show me the secrets in the shadowy places that good boys and girls  should never see; like rock'n'roll rumbling in a dingy divebar-backroom, or lovers in a rain soaked alley.

Show me the secrets in the hidden places that only the lonely children can see: the shoe box treasure chests of broken shiny things, bric-a-brac in old tin cans, a cobweb covered crawlspace comicbook, or a lost love's lost love notes never sent and never seen.

Show me the secrets in the wilderness gardens that only the dreamers may dare to see: Dandelion promenades of pine needles paved over rotten leaves and treebark leading away to toadstool terraces among orchards of fiddlehead ferns and ghost pipes ascending to trumpet the day.

Show me the secrets hidden behind curtains that spirits and mediums only should see: the souls untethered and howling damnation at their veiled purgation in a dustless dimension forever unheard.