Sand slips past my tongue
I lie to you with the alphabet, hiding
In eloquent highs in basement rooms
Glossy windows built from ashes.
And most of all destruction
Sacred like kamikaze winds

Scarlet haze form cocaine winds
Pushing crosses across my tongue
To atone my way out of destruction
Playing games and hiding
From the devil in the ashes
Of Rome. Lost in strangers eyes in a smoky room

Filling my mouth with teeth till I don't have room
For all the apologies that he winds
Through my brain like ashes
Weighing my addiction heavy on my tongue
And under my bed, dust is hiding
Just slipping to me while I dream of destruction

Spelling destruction
From letters not in alphabets, but out of rooms
That twist themselves in your mind. Remember hiding
Is not white flags in the wind
It's little white pills under your tongue
It's picking bones out of the ashes

My aging mind is ashen
And I'm putting colors into a jukebox to play "Destruction
Of the Bastille" in my native tongue
I ask lover #3 if the prison in my mind has any vacant rooms
With grand pianos so I can play wind
And heroin like my soul is hiding

Under blankets of snow like ashes
Of fire storms and wind
Storms in the American west. Praying for destruction
Like some people pray in hotel rooms
For rain upon their tongues

Hiding destruction under my wing while
Trying to turn ashes into paper rooms not the other way
Around, like the warm wind of secrets on my tongue.