Soothed away by the scratching at the exterior
Of a mess I've made with blunt objects against you
So cushion this bed with the fibers lost
From the expedition through this lost world
Findings of snow covered cherry blossoms
Hidden away in the undergrowth
Made of the fabric that shrouds this head
There's just not enough hats to disappear in
While exit signs flash away the darkness
This way for salvation, This way for...
Still fingers, for idle hands do less damage
To the layers beneath, in the throws of sleep.
