fiend, you call me. because i'm the two eyes of addiction

and oh, tea for two, can't you see? i'm just a pretty ad with

these curls and a glint of white in my smile: i know you want

to buy what i'm selling, and it's sugar to stir into your

blue blood, like your collared job and even when i'm

not around my eyes are in yours because you see sunrises

in that straight line (curving with error like the horizon) and it

looks just like the foam on every wave. fiend, you call me,

but boy, i'm not the one i'm selling to.