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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,

Validation;

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

Mercedes.