feel the vapor pressure drop as the dark
steam pours out the entrance. real cold world is
swirling into a club that keeps the
real life world out. where every sense seems deathly
weak from the frozen time you spent in transit.
the glass danse world flickers on & the
low end thaws your anxious body.
maybe i feel detached. i may just look to shy
its a disinterest not that i am a timid guy.
i call them bodies but, they´re attentive too.
i feel the social glare, i feel the attitude
watch as mirrors clear themselves with the
breath of frigid air that eased in.
made up babies all rotate as a siren
spins a beam of amber. time sliced beat
by beat in a row, in a club,
in a line, in the city.
the glass dance world
flickers on because the cycle happens enough:
a baby falls out warm. it is screaming for it is life.
an infant tries to danse as it grows up, then dies.
that is simplified but uh . . . when your complexion dries
you wake up cold & think you wish it would been this way.
Faint, The Ringtones