the floor you walk on is smooth there is no ground there magic begins with blood outside there are trees with concrete under their roots but I have passed the tombs of kings regaled them with pacing checked bins for food and wrappings I have scoured the seas for miles cloaked my face with ash my fingertips opening accepting my time
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes
for me I'm your sorrow calling in your dreams
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes
for me I'm your shadow howling in the streets
water chimes in the space between rocks speakers discharge and laughter is in the air glass divides us empty bottles mark the steady sweep of days tomorrow I will walk the streets and steel myself for the familiar your eyes will not settle a hunger you'd be happier in your grave when we meet share stories you stretch me I see I see a semi-circle of teeth
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes
for me I'm your sorrow calling in your dreams
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes
for me I'm your shadow howling in the streets
for me I'm your sorrow calling in your dreams
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes