“Past”
I dream of sleeping without a ghost in my dreams
I scream trying to turn the reflection of fantasies
I turn the table to taste my own tongue
I’ll stay here and watch you run
Oh it’s slightly the same, the only difference you’re in a frame
There’s a flash it’s all gone, my hand no longer yields yours.
No longer welcome behind your door in the bed with what I adore.
This is words
Words we have heard
Heard before, sounds absurd
I sleep of dreaming with ghosts in my bed
I whisper to fantasies screaming for morning sun
My tongue tastes of blood at this table
Our dreams are now but another fable.
