So you think you know what it takes to be a train?
Waking the cogsmen with your sultry mists again.
Balancing myself has become a question of nails
and I wonder if the sky would become a satin mask again,
like those other times that only ended with laughs.
I dance on brittle sunshine in tomorrows yesterday,
to remind myself of the quilted pain I had to cast away.
I want to press wounds into shaped flowers to fill my pillow,
but this soul's paper thin, trying to hold off cathartic eyes,
so let me carry my dreams alone into another elusive sunrise...