My baby blue veins beg for your strychnine lies.
And in the oncoming
(Of haze and convulsion)
I see your face
Contrasted in blacks and reds,
Grays and greens.
Across the ever changing field of vision;
We ran like horses with our burning tales and faded tear stains.
And the train rose up out of nowheres and oblivions,
Begging for attention,
Wanting only to become a reality in our space.
Hold me back,
Against a wall of blood clots and virgin veins,
Cutting me lose, drowned in powder.
You'll pull me in and I'll dream of