Memphis Will Be Laid To Rest

waltz around the room with a glaze in your stare. In your tuxedo suit. <br>I will give it a name. Lower you defenses. Lower you casket. Open the door<br>and open your grave. Murder. Now you`re doing the waltz with your murder.<br>Mediocrity is the Killer. You find yourself helpless. Christ is not a fasion, fleeting away. <br>Fasion. He laid emralds in her eyes but I`d already tried a bracelet made of gold and <br>scarlet thread around her wrist. Everything was wrong, so we sang sentimental songs. "oh<br>how seldom we belong, but how elegant our kiss!" We painted crooked lines, but we danced in <br>perfect time to a love so much refined we know not what it is until like a dullen wine we <br>pour into a grief we`d know before, but never quite like this. All I know now is regret, <br>it follows like a sillouete along the cobblestone behind me, but has nothing much to say<br>except to innocently ask, its voice delicate as glass "do you see me when we pass?"<br>but I continue on my way.