The stage is set to rip the wings from a butterfly,
the stage is set,
dont forget to breathe,
between lines if the whole world dies,
then its safe to take the stage,
these graves will stretch
like landing on strips - hospitals: all the dead museums, we wont have to be afraid anymore.
The crowd is growing silent with the gathering storm.
When the curtain falls and youre caught on the other side (just trying to keep up the act),
well lie in the back of black cars,
with the windows rolled up,
joining the precession of emptiness,
if we say these words,
it will be too late to take them back.
So we hold our breathe and fold our hands,
like paper planes (and were going to crash)
We dont have to be alone ever again.
Theres a riot in the theatre.
Someones standing the aisle, yelling that the murderers are everywhere and theyre lining up,
carving M in your side.
Pull the curtains back.
Kill all the house lights.
Pin the dress lotus flowers. The silk is spinning around and around,
with the ceiling fan.
Im disappearing into the spotlight.
Im on display,
with the butterfly and the scare crow,
with smiles like picket fences, you tie us all up and leave us outside.
"That voice is silent now and the boat has sunk..."
Were on our own but were not going to run.
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