Is it my lungs or is it my heart
I'm losing my breath but I cannot stop
A drug of pain, a hopeful craft
Your heavenly wisps, alas I forgot

A scoring season of vague apathy.
A winters gloom, your heart's chemistry
So serene yet a rewarding apricity
I hope you find me admist this anonymity

I'm yours to keep and I'm yours to lose
O'er the shadows of what your lips could show
Maybe a séance to let you choose
But like Nirvana's hopes, I'm all yours below

In a recurring current of love and quandary
A dazzling wish, filled with hopeful scarcity
Would the world know us for the ghosts within
Or would we be artists buried in limp
-N
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