Xinomavro

Redwing blushing when your prose is vague 
I think of you when I'm alone in rooms
I listen to the nervous stars singing dying odes
My blood is alive like a soft machine ringing out
Clinging to our neon rapport throbbing in a labyrinth
I see strange marks like incarnations of curious doves
Dancing on my skin, and when I close my eyes
I'm kissing you again 

Trying to reason with your point of view limp and yielding
The philosophy you wear blisters like a bubble
And I think I want to be your victim
Swallowed by your warm, eternal terracotta gaze
I'm awake again, wishing I had done everything differently

My lover's moan kisses the reckless moon 
Arched over a disconsolate afternoon 
The words of our youth justify my actions
How could I have known this love is reckless

We talk about the National Society of Pessimists
After the credits, after the Greatest Hits
We talk about Glasgow in a cool pool of echoing lust
I see the mountains, that scorching blue horizon pouring over 
My swaying hips, sailing West, testing my limits

Fuck it, I'm getting drunk again
Fucking myself again 
Wishing this time spent could be bought back
Oh, how you traverse this love
Pyromaniacal on a formica worktop
Where the irony is lost 
Crying when you eavesdrop 

After the ache, I lay still, and oh, and oh, and oh
I see your bones, green, like a vision of euphoria
Surrendering to the moment
Always holding onto you
It's almost as if I knew it would end this way.