Civil War Car

(Climb in)

It's perfectly abnormal.
A twisted
Stench of salt fills
The spaces.

In the back seat.

I feel like a fugitive,
I'm a dirty stolen child.

Dressed up.
(in butterflies...)
I start to think
(your alcohol lies)

Its the club scene verses
The aftershow glimmers.
Where are we? Because I can't see.
Reflections of bridges.
A glass full of trees.

(Let her out)