The Queen, The Meek, And Their Disease

You come in at night,

you're not ashamed,

he knows where you've been.



The emergence of life

from a night on the town in the city of sin.

You turn on the lights

and that gut feeling comes back again.

Sick from the ashes in the ashtray.



Television static, how tragic

the story of a veteran.

In this mattress lies

the one who holds the key

to all the things that seem to ail you, sensory deprivation.



And just like a window left open,

a romantic tale of conquest,

a rouge parchment

on the landscape of your bedroom

where you both spent the afternoon, sensory infatuation.



The queen, the meek and their disease.

Sleep away the weakness please.



I'm too young.



We're not afraid say the hands of time to our bodies.

We play the spade against the king of hearts and his parade.

A couple of actors stumble across the stage.