The lights,
oh, the lights are in my eyes and I am hypnotised by the fruit of fear and fantasy,
I took a bite of bliss,
and everything couldn’t return to how it was before,
because I wasn’t who I was before,
and everyone is so divinely critical of the chanteuse,
hanging from the ceiling by her microphone’s cable.
The floor is unstable but I do not step on it anymore,
I soar above the screaming,
roses rising like the sea,
my solemn, sweet beats baked into the air,
and there was never anything to fear,
because they cut me down and cut to the final note,
where the lights are bright, and I can see nothing but forever.
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