歌詞
Streetlights survey the room.
His ashes circulate the parquet,
spill like wine.
Go long, go on.
The vectors wind.
**
In houses at night, where the theatre comes in,
through singing kitchens
where our stakes in the world are reclaimed,
in with bad academics, slouched
at the window there, there where I
kissed you and the tin-foil melted,
stuck to the beams, our hair was rushes
there, where the rushing felt like home.
And in our rushing,
are seeds propelled
as the jerking and the yelling
of the sad casinos intensifies?
Are our lives
going missing in a dust cloud
out there?
**
Where?
So close. Our lines leapt and bound
like smoke.
**
It happened innocently
when you offered your hand—
searchlight cast across wreckage
for stillness,
—wishing for a settlement
some miles from the stage.
New theatre for change:
love song with roots renovated
to wrap around arms.
That night was a terror:
outsourced, in the waiting room!
“As peace expired, clung to my side,
I saw vile doctors shout ‘CRIMINAL’,
(certified by knives)
and the short one said ‘HANDS WHERE I
CAN SEE THEM’,
while drifting away,
and in his wisdom, turned pagan to soil in the spinning heat—“
Written by: Kiran Leonard
