We live a vestal existence
To walk through an endless dim corridor
Glasses of wine,
The ring of your glass,
Circles the conversation,
As it matches your finger,
Stolen from the mirror that keeps time,
I find it hard to tell you,
Trying to recall an old passport,
The sadness with hopes,
Disparage our angels love,
Empty bottles of fine wines,
Messages corked inside ,
The glass coffins drift away
Raise your glass toast a cheer,
You own an empire of silk and cadavers,
Timber off cuts stacked atop one another,
The bonfire will rage,
When my pockets are emptied of song,
We will dance slowly till dawn,
When I finally get home.