Dancing, talking, undressing, everyone has tears of sorrow for the Queen, flowers for the war witch. Horrible spots of sunlight throughout the centuries, it's a ruined landscape below, atop my rooftop in the freezing rain, my eyes glow.
Melting glass on the ant beds, there's no place like home, a place you were born, the swarming hives and underwater kissing of lights, a ballerina pirouettes, spirals of yellow ribbon, the drowsy frost of trees trapped in ice, a frightened and cruel winter, the sparkling white dust of the dissolving faces.