let us suppose in this instant
that out dreams could ignite the sky
inner demons wrapping swollen prophets
in their wake
how many loving teardrops could we brave

if only towards the inner heart
could guilty songbirds spill and fret
a love like any other pours so frail
belief turned stammered from regret

when i awake
eyes scatter like the air apart
neatly inside the once red pursing lips
like some strange fruit has died...
or a book turned inward.

the chords are at their strangest
as they leave your sacred throat.