Now, I'm paintin' walls with rafters,
Hear the burnin' tomes,
Wrote my systems rhythms down there,
On the bell where in Hell I'm home,
I hear her ringin' sometimes,
But I don't know that I'm alone,
Until I feel them searching eyes,
Looking on my fingers strum,
And see my lips twitch in the wind,
Cold blue light glows on my face,
And I'm kissing you again . . .
We're done, spelled out by the chance,
But this time it's from the reels,
That were spent on such a scene,
That was so fun to finally feel.
Then, when we went on back inside . . .
The river sank back down . . .
It was just a sound, the mind,
When you turned the bottle around,
And I looked back into them eyes . . .
Poured my glass onto the ground,
But you poured yours deep inside.