Theres no mercy in your eyes
I'm heading to california to cut open my chest and stretch the vessels till I croon off my feet, swept up in a black cloud. I don't think I'm making it through this year, I'm hoping for a fire cracker finish line. The sun hangs longer, remebering cheap wine and the women who sees the future, shes going to show me the fireworks. Hanging in the sky, you never see the bursts when they're overhead. You'll see me in dreams holding a small rod, crying at the fish. I'm fond of that way, mouths wont need a stitch. We will meet in the reflection of passenger glass just when the sunset fucks the cold in the southern bleed. Call me dynamite, I'll throw roses on your grave. I'm fond of that way.