To give summer kisses, but they taste like winter.
Called her flower, but every time he's with her,
she will slowly wither.

In her eyes—overwhere it always burns.
But not of passions; just a feeling of her scorned
flesh. Ashamed, close enough to bruise.
Filthy fingers that are winter in June.

Under his toxic power—oh the death of a flower.

I tread light (with a heavy heart)
footsteps brushed aside beneath my
laboured breath
now shines the sun 'cross my vagrant heart
(puts rest to idle flights of fancy)

shafts of brilliance decorate a face
(weary with a tear or two)
years ahead and years behind
scratch definitions of beautiful regret

I travel from there
to overwhere
and find my travels shy of fortune
(redemption, and sly contempt)

so soon enough I will smile
and you will smile
('cause home isn't far off now)
just another chore 'til forever more