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GRINGORE His heart was hung out on a close line. His soul was stolen with the sheets Friends now foes in the lost and found. Somewhere north of nowhere street. Just like a knight in shiny armour. Like priest in leather lace silk and chain. Stony idols beg for forgiveness, like a gypsy grieving in the rain. Queen of hearts is now rehearsing, all those bells have broken down. Someone said they saw him crying lost, in a familiar part of time. Saw him carrying a tombstone, jumps throw hoops he can not fit. Photos from a broken camera, green suede shoes they just don’t fit One eyed jacks, all that's treasures turns to pain, shoes we’re not lost They were not stolen, only footsteps still remain. Open doors can not walk through, rooms that can't contain his heart Lock and key she holds laughing, grace was spent right from the start. Moaning doves bruised and bandages, every stitch and prick he faints Melancholy lost his advantage, serial romantics and the saints Rear view fragments cracked and broken, was wearing a dead man hat Writing prose he’s never spoken, now he knows where those shoes are at Aqueous in silver linings, languid laces come undone, cold hard facts he’s Memorising, tears unshed, songs unsung Open doors can not walk through, rooms that can't contain his heart Lock and key she holds laughing, grace was spent right from the start.
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