the floor you walk on is smooth
there is no ground there
magic begins with blood
outside there are trees
with concrete under their roots
but I have passed the tombs of kings
regaled them with pacing
checked bins for food and wrappings
I have scoured the seas for miles
cloaked my face with ash
my fingertips opening accepting my time

the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes

for me I'm your sorrow
calling in your dreams

the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes

for me I'm your shadow
howling in the streets

water chimes in the space between rocks
speakers discharge and laughter is in the air
glass divides us empty bottles mark the steady sweep of days
tomorrow I will walk the streets
and steel myself for the familiar
your eyes will not settle
a hunger you'd be happier in your grave
when we meet share stories you stretch me
I see
I see a semi-circle of teeth

the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes

for me I'm your sorrow
calling in your dreams

the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes

for me I'm your shadow
howling in the streets

for me I'm your sorrow
calling in your dreams

the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes
the dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes

for me I'm your shadow
howling in the streets