Projected above the bed the shadow of my lovers thought bubble
He dreams of the same carnival trash through which i sneak off for a stroll
There some connection between mass species extinction and common production values of ass
I trudge back to our crypt to revise the script
Dawns light warped my costume's fit
Salt the strawberries
My smeared rodeo clown face-painted has stained the twisted blanket
Dumb with the confidence of coupling our dry kisses knit
His false snore, the whistle vacuum of the door
And the whole goddamn outside comes rushing in
The sunrise diffuses his dream's shadow, relieves my forgiver's burden
But I'll still salt the strawberries.
