The moon's breath on your face,
and your skin is purple...
So much anger
created by beauty...
Red
drip, drip, drip...
Sitting in the hands of Fate,
you can't see anything...
Broken Glass,
Strings and Rags...
Sometimes, with my head on my pillow,
I dream of colors unseen and morbid things...
Finally slipping from the sun's fingertips
Manufactured breaths cool my face...
Tortured homes,
chains and bones...
Coated in silver, standing straight and tall.
the only one left, not to fall...
From the high, rocky shore, my love,
I felt the wind to my skin...
Just as the stars in the Heavens' air
just as the back of my hair...
Dear Anyone,
You walk by every day...