a brush with love & death in beauty pageant sidewalks
piercing the daylight hours until i see you next
waiting for the flesh to recover from sleep in hell's cradle
i wander looking for your pair of eyes to recollect
tick tock and the clock strikes our hearts in chaotic relapse
underneath the fiery altered patterns
we'll tie knots in our wrists and dive off the edge
find what matters most down below
the blood filling our bags of endless routine
and letting the surface dry to walk its putrid valleys
this is an ode to those who care and feel with metaphors
and similies that burn souls to ashes
to (her) with wings of ashbury
may you fly upon the blood red moon
and cast the stars into an angelic phrase:
'strum the orchestra and roar the circus'
that encrusted gleam in your eye is eccentric
the racing of that blackened devil we call a heart
is causing veins to divide and knives to multiply
wrap the wound in gauze and apply pressure
...(don't forget to cough)
"we've got another one, he's alive" she screams
as the lights flicker into rested pupils
where your angel carries me to skyscrapers
and attends to my apature of neglect.
the sweetest nectar of poison rain
you taste good on a ill-fated sense.
waiting for the flesh to recover from sleep in hell's cradle
i wander looking for your pair of eyes to recollect
tick tock and the clock strikes our hearts in chaotic relapse
underneath the fiery altered patterns
we'll tie knots in our wrists and dive off the edge
find what matters most down below
the blood filling our bags of endless routine
and letting the surface dry to walk its putrid valleys
this is an ode to those who care and feel with metaphors
and similies that burn souls to ashes
to (her) with wings of ashbury
may you fly upon the blood red moon
and cast the stars into an angelic phrase:
'strum the orchestra and roar the circus'
that encrusted gleam in your eye is eccentric
the racing of that blackened devil we call a heart
is causing veins to divide and knives to multiply
wrap the wound in gauze and apply pressure
...(don't forget to cough)
"we've got another one, he's alive" she screams
as the lights flicker into rested pupils
where your angel carries me to skyscrapers
and attends to my apature of neglect.
the sweetest nectar of poison rain
you taste good on a ill-fated sense.