left-handed anarchy, in a way, pools on the floor
like soaking water leaking underneath the door
the stream of consciousness may at times overflow
so like a drowned-out martyr you sink to equal depths below

and it won't seem right, but tonight, i'm sentimental
the heat gets to me in a way i'd rather deny
like with your love, i've no peace of
mind your thinking
the phantasmagorical fiction in your eyes,
it just wouldn't seem right

overstayed, overlooked monarchy settles in the dust of ancient past
and resurrection promised but later refused is forgotten news fading fast
like a reflection in the window, a mottled look, a tinted hue
fleeting fortunes in secret strewn beneath a secret cellar roughly hewn

it may not seem right, but tonight, it's a kind of miracle
of untold destruction, restless change
your unseen light and violet skies and
endless reverence of night,
each star falls and impales me, burning out

it may not seem right in your violent mind
to stand in unseen light, aligned to what you can't relate to
i may not seem right, but i'll assure you as i assure myself
that it's all i have to give you
and i must be right as i lay on the ground and wait
for the stars to fall and pierce me burning, rending me to cinders and burning out
rending me to cinders and burning, burning, burning out