I wear the void like Sunday dress,
I wrap myself in nothingness
far away from solid ground
moons exploding without sound...

I spin around my weightless self.

Shining stars of every color
welcome me like long lost lover,
sending stardust to my aid
telling me "You shouldn't stay"

...but still in the void I float.

Dont go chasing waterfalls
my girl
please
stay here with the lazy flow
under
willow trees

your roses are like cigarettes
addictive and bittersweet
and through the smoky petals
i can't breathe

Drowning in the sea of red
cartridges stuck inside her head
singing to the pigeon man
about all the stars again
how they crunch under her toes
there she goes

She dines by the candlelight
golden beetles lined with blight
in her velvet dressing room
withered flowers in full bloom

Drowning in the sea of red
cartridges stuck inside her head
singing to the pigeon man
about the dawn once again
how the curtain rises low
on last show

Cigarettes in the first row
burning slow
Rustling of the stolen feathers
burning slow
City shining through the smoke
*burning slow

One Two Three Four;
Every morning, every day:
White White Yellow Gray,
Good girl,
swallow all of them.

One
At midday
pale and bright.
Don't forget your coin of life.

One Two Three Four;*
Every evening, every day:
White White Yellow Gray,
All my life
until i die.

Our hearts are locked inside a ribbon cage
fluttering in silky chains
bleeding out in silent rage
spelling swears out in red stains

And right on cue the scissor-lady comes
to the rounds of applause and rolls of drums
snapping blades and leaving scars
cutting  ‘way the ribbon bars

She wears a belt of stolen rings
cut of the fingers of the old
long forgotten crownless kings
tarnish gold selling the truth retold

And right on cue the scissor-lady comes
to the rounds of applause and rolls of drums
snapping blades and leaving scars
cutting  ‘way the ribbon bars

Beware of the queen of hearts
dashing in next lave affair

*
And right on cue the scissor-lady comes
to the rounds of applause and rolls of drums
snapping blades and leaving stains
cutting  ‘way the pulsing veins

If eyes are windows to the soul
-then my soul is always blue
and my heart as black as coal
fevered flames that i once knew
fading away into the tide
of you
*and you
and you