So short of hope, hard not to choke on smoking paint A soul survived an indoor fire There's soot on everything alien, adhesive skin The embers glow in the remains
Can you see that far when the lens is stained with blackened grease? Can you swim in tar and still retrieve the heart? The liquid under film noir?
Back to the scene before the blaze Behind the scenes, someone misplaced Pitch in the rain machine, spray painting the white screen sparked my imagination
Can you see that far when the lens is stained with blackened grease? Can you swim in tar and still retrieve the heart? The liquid under film noir?
Poor, poor blackbirds, wrapped in shadow strewn like pebbles on dead meadows Help me please, I've lost my brother Summer's song so cruelly smothered
Now I live in my camera obscura A pinhole eye admitting some light Replacing mine I am guilty as sin And so I ran back to the end, where it began with arson and a dream An image feared reversed in here, becoming so clear and it simply spelled 'The End'
Can you see that far when the lens is stained with blackened grease? Can you swim in tar and still retrieve the heart? The liquid under film noir?