Does it show,
A vacancy, thatís full of holes.
Hold me please, Iím feeling cold.
Please donít look to close at me,
You might not like what you see.
Tenderness in her voice,
Could kick me off course.
Would make me choke,
Could cut my throat.
Imagine me taught by tragedy,
Release is peace,
A different kind of lost,
At a sullen cost.
I saw you standing in a crimson dress,
Tattered and wrinkled in the perfect mess.
Pounds of love in my skull.
The thought of you never dulled.
So freely it spun, spun ,
Around like the sphereic sun.