Spinning round a windy ledge,
i kiss the cross around my neck,
these fever dreams replace the likes of you.
Grinning into space, alone and lost,
the dampened linens lie,
as i wake up,
covered in fake love.
In my den the china white,
embraced my blood and laced my night,
an amuse-bouche of courses left to come.
The past three years I can't recall,
coulda been fun, but was it worth it all,
i'm a coma patient lacking an excuse.
is hard to come by,
are a stranger in my,
lost my balance blinded by the darker truth