in your room where souls disappear, with foundations that lasted the ages then ripped apart at their roots, just like the old days. if you don't bring up those lonely parts this could be a good time. will you let the fire die soon? will you let the morning come soon? or will you leave me lying here in your favourite darkness, your favourite half-light.
i'm hanging on your words, living on your breath, all shadows and deliverance under a black flag, ambition in the back of a black car. a sound like a tiger thrashing in the water and i saw my life as i know quickly fade away.
beyond all this good is the terror. just a quick glance and i knew all was lost. i saw the black side of me. it's like learning a new language. a hundred years of blood, crimson, the ribbon, tightens round my throat.
existence, well what does it matter? i exist on the best terms i can. the past is now part of my future, the present is well out of my hands. to remember the past, to remember that day, i open my mouth, black friday, it was not as i thought; a little black haired girl waiting for saturday. her rabid glow is like brail to the night.
the death of her father pushing her. the black and white; the prayer for something better. she says it helps with the lights out. pushing her white face into the mirror. and the real me, the blood, flesh, mind will suffer… will i always be here?
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