I’m wrapped up in liquid – whiskey or rum
No sign of my lungs failing, but my heart is overcome
You are playing my organs with a serrated spoon
A gutsy concerto by the light of the moon.
The music is yours, hours upon days
Living for moments in the moon’s gentle gaze
An impassioned plea for your time, nothing more
But this dream was a harbinger of the nightmare in store
I wake up alone, you are gone.
Taking the sun, taking our song
I choke on a torrent of bile and of blood
The visions I’ve seen but never understood