I’m losing track of what I once thought.
Short strings of innocence have begun to clot
Like some tumultuous rukus house
On a Thursday night stagette.
Holy Aurora.
I’ve left home to dance, and I don’t feel any different;
I’m undone in my head and I can’t sing anymore,
So please god, open the sky to me,
Open and bring me sweetly on home
In the coming’s I’m getting,
And I don’t feel it anymore.
