Fast violin in the background,
Thunder then rain drops all around,
Hands are cold, I finger gloves,
Half moons on face, and sun above.
Bad turns good, the fantasy,
Bad cover books, is all I see,
Gasoline smells good, and smoke does too,
Eight is red and seven's blue.
Life's but a dream, the dreamer has,
there's nothing there but personas,
Memories, controlled me,
chose for me, dethroned me.
Card is red, Spades through the snow,
It says: "that's it, the end of show."
Hands shake then slowly eyelids drop.
Heart stops then suddenly heartbeats stop.