Between sighs and whispers she woke up

Draped sheets covered her body in a moody blues of silk and white satin

Her body hummed an old and raspy jazz

And her strained skin made of butterfly wings smelled of dust and fire as her memory burned into oblivion.

She wore bones like necklaces and flowers in her head

She was made for San Francisco, whiskey filled the air.

Starved hearts begged her mercy and she slashed them with a knife,

She had nothing to give she gave away her life to a man.

Blood painted her cheeks, signs of a war long ago lost,

And apathy filled the air as it was covered by thick smoke.

Hands once ushered her body, they bruised and shattered the glass of her fragile soul,

She was once the little Alice but step through the wrong hole.

Between sighs and whispers she woke up

Draped sheets covered her body in a moody blues of silk and white satin

Her head hummed the memories of Zarathustra

Her mind burned slowly dying to know.

She was once mine, for all that I can tell,

She was once yours for all that I know.

She was once the stars and the sky and the mindless murmurs of the wind in the night.