Eidolon

Word Thingys: Salome Strangelove

At the bottom of every cup I drain
A word is etched deep into the grain
And I crave it even as I curse its name
Your name

At the end of every passage down
Fate provides a jagged cut-glass crown
I gotta get the hell out of this town
Your town

And it’s too damn early to be this fall-down drunk
And it’s too damn late to pull out of this funk
I’m just left here sittin’ where you’re not, but you still haunt
And so I want and so I want and so I want

At the close of every chance encounter
We negotiate the lateness of the hour
And exchange our souls for midnight power
Your power

Here’s the final chance to break this chain
Stare down empty halls and I’m afraid
What if your ghost is all I’ve left in trade
My trade

And it’s too damn early to be this fall-down drunk
And it’s too damn late to pull out of this funk
I’m just left here sittin’ where you’re not, but you still haunt
And so I want and so I want and so I want

The night gets darker, I can hear the howling
They say it’s just the wind
It’s not the wind; it’s not the wind;
It’s not the wind; it’s not the wind

And it’s too damn early to be this fall-down drunk
And it’s too damn late to pull out of this funk
I’m just left here sittin’ where you’re not, but you still haunt
And so I want and so I want and so I want

And so I want and so I want and so I want