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Description
Twist me, burn me, drown me. Drown me in bright orange and ferrous green. Find me, kiss me, bury me. Hunt me out of cosine waves and an infinite curve.

I am what you want me to be, but hidden. I am sliding, slipping, swift with the sound of smooth skin and sibilance. Hanging from trees, and on the edge of words. Let's get lost. Let's climb into the Sun and never return. When the Sun comes out, we'll be the sunspots making a Little Ice Age, and when we fade, we'll be the volcanic ash of a forever-winter.

We'll be gone soon. We'll be dead, and from our rotting bodies, flowers shall grow. We will be in them and we will be eternity.

The morals of childhood movies fade and we're left in the dirt. Dirty, we're dirty, and we deserve everything we get in our recklessness. Blankets are God's gift and we can hide from the cold and the world and maybe keep a secret of something else. Or maybe we won't. Maybe we'll just let it go and it will be wonderful, magical, and we'll never stop again. All it took was questions and curiosity and waking up in a warm glow of trust.

I'll get lost in the words of a love song, crash the skyline, lose it all. Let's watch this city burn; complete combustion and we'll choke on the fumes. We'll kill them all with clichés and kindness, coat it in petrol and explode. We'll explode.

Description
Twist me, burn me, drown me. Drown me in bright orange and ferrous green. Find me, kiss me, bury me. Hunt me out of cosine waves and an infinite curve.

I am what you want me to be, but hidden. I am sliding, slipping, swift with the sound of smooth skin and sibilance. Hanging from trees, and on the edge of words. Let's get lost. Let's climb into the Sun and never return. When the Sun comes out, we'll be the sunspots making a Little Ice Age, and when we fade, we'll be the volcanic ash of a forever-winter.

We'll be gone soon. We'll be dead, and from our rotting bodies, flowers shall grow. We will be in them and we will be eternity.

The morals of childhood movies fade and we're left in the dirt. Dirty, we're dirty, and we deserve everything we get in our recklessness. Blankets are God's gift and we can hide from the cold and the world and maybe keep a secret of something else. Or maybe we won't. Maybe we'll just let it go and it will be wonderful, magical, and we'll never stop again. All it took was questions and curiosity and waking up in a warm glow of trust.

I'll get lost in the words of a love song, crash the skyline, lose it all. Let's watch this city burn; complete combustion and we'll choke on the fumes. We'll kill them all with clichés and kindness, coat it in petrol and explode. We'll explode.