A song that passes through me,
A feel of the summer sun on my skin...
I lie in here waiting still.
The clock ticks...
Funeral homes are colder than usual
in late spring...
Phantasmical plumes of thick darkness
Choking the oxygen from the air...
Melancholy prevails yet again
Watch me crumble and count to ten...
My mind is full of foreshadows
And different pictures...
Baby girl don't you know you're no surgeon...
You can't play your body like operation...
To soon I say,
for such a great friend to be on your way...
I've plucked petals
in midst of tragedy...
Roses are red violets are blue
Sugar is sweet and so are you...
Incubator, mother's breast.
dressing up box, old string vest...
There, death.
We give up. You win...