All of the rudders are slowing now;
Our twirls are tangled in molasses
From dancing through the sweetest thing
I've been in for a while.
We are victims of imminent motion
In an ocean of pocket pictures
That shone bright in the red rockets we let free.
You are the blood, it seems to be,
That keeps my heart from freezing
After wading in the water for the best place to drown.
Now the stars start to fall and the ghosts get their gowns,
The calendar tips as she starts counting down.
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