The World's Decay Where The

The Gash In Its Throat Was Shocking, But Not Pathetic.

Nobody Wanted Your Dance, Nobody Wanted Your Strange Glitter, Your Floundering Drowning Life And Your Effort To Save Yourself, Treading Water, Dancing The Dark Turmoil, Looking For Something To Give.

In The Pit Of Red You Hid From The Bone-clinic Whiteness But The Jewel You Lost Was Blue.

What Happens In The Heart Simply Happens.

You Solve It As You Get Older, When You Reach The Point Where You've Tasted So Much That You Can Somehow Sacrifice Certain Things More Easily, And You Have A More Tolerant View Of Things Like Possessiveness (your Own) And A Broader Acceptance Of The Pains And The Losses.