Beaujolais
The Burnings
Exit the empty foyerAnd make my way upstairsEnter the quiet bedroomAt once ensconce a matchI'm heading straight for the bedYour scent cannot be curedI'm heading straight for the bedI need to watch it burnNo tiesJust burnsDo you understandI think you doForsooth, the shift so suddenSo I blow out the matchI feel I'm moving beyondYour bid for empty sexI'm staring straight at my handsAnd through to silhouettesI'm staring straight at my handsThey've turned to skeletonsPure whiteNot deadYou negate all sense in revenge
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