/*--> */ We built it on the empty air, like elastic we stretched it far, and you plucked out it’s single note -kept it in a pickle jar. The distance...
We're cutting a line below the star-spangled dome, through the dry grasslands and the forested hills. The trail we leave is not always straight and the journey we make is haltering.
So who visited you in your childhood bed? -The old man in red or the woman with wings? Or perhaps other unearthly things. Or maybe the villains who arrived at night