From Dalight

I remember this painted in laundry white

It's such beautiful coldness that numb feels right

Fantastic specimen known to cause those harm

Twisted drone ripped from the false ant farm

It was all shaved head and climbing trees

Bile and shouts of make it stop please

Through stained glass you know that I became aware

That equanimity's become my cross to bear

For too long, our verve's has remained up in the air

Collecting all these trinkets reflecting all the glare

I don't want to deprive myself of another

Only seen the sink and not of your gullet

I'm babysitting lines on my pedestal

Who makes these tiny things and so I call

Country whores with mourning cities on their neck

Hit it again and lie through stanza sets

Pieces of me fall far from dalight