but i don't care who's left behind lost revelations that I'll never find in the long hall pipes are whispering blues prepared for anti-christening somewhere there's an honest soul to mirror teeth where neon lures troll and what's extinct might come alive a purple smoke in some internal shrine
with a long sigh let the hissing in stones deformed by gentle kissing and all the closed eyes start to glisten. but it feels like someone's missing. //
