The acoustics of the guns pop
Against the Ivy and the prayers.
A breath frozen emotionless
Stinging to the skyline.
We love like mannequins
Staring at the sunset
And we watch the red rouge jetline
Across the domineering solar shivers.
We are the weeping fools
All of our memories clutched –
In the lines of our held hands.
All the knots in our bruising –
Begins to bleed the hurt away
As we sleep and wish away –
The hurt from past demons
The lingering spit of revitalized demons.
Beautiful and madly, babe
We fell madly into the flowers
The itching, biting blades of grass
The apples begin to fall
The white clouds are imprisoned
Sing the song of release
To the freedom of night
The guns don’t even phase us anymore