Let\'s pretend that none of this is real, that we are free to fly
Like kings through ice-cream clouds of immortality
Let us go to a place only my eyes know
Where we haunt the last blade of grass
Where we watch the dance of the birds
Through windswept brushstrokes, eclipse the sunrise
Your name on my tongue
The rain on the window
The love we shared that never died
Bespoke
Something more than a memory
By an ominous garden, I crawl back to you
A vision of solace in your arms, I surrender
To you, to the morning
The child that never dies, frantically painting you
Your skin is white, but I paint you blue
Like the moon and the night\'s magnetism drapes
Over the black hills, I swallow you like the guilt in my throat
The bells of our mother
Take me back to brighter shores.