I sputter lies
into the sky
against the grain
of my own advice.
I pour my dreams
into the stream
of white wine
and no one else.
I turn recluse
under your roof
warm under blankets
thread by you.
peddler of the morose and macabre
I sputter lies
into the sky
against the grain
of my own advice.
I pour my dreams
into the stream
of white wine
and no one else.
I turn recluse
under your roof
warm under blankets
thread by you.