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Your ghost, a white candle in this night |
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Smile broken, though eyes bright as carnival rides |
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You wander these streets, punch-drunk on the stars |
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As the lights are stubbed out in the neighborhood bars |
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Your voice, thin as smoke, barely exits your mouth |
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There's blood in your hair and a fire to the south |
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Your skeleton moves in a waltz with the stairs |
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And the well of your heart, full of noone who cares |
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Your words, a white wreath at the cusp of the hill |
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To mark of the kill, where the blood was spilled |
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You're the back of the mirror, you're the ghost of the tide |
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And i would die twice, if you stayed tonight |
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(don't stay tonight) |
