Twasn’t he, the bat-winged one,Smoldering heap of ashTwas truly her, the pale-faced one,Summoner of Devil’s stash
Drugs and neon lights,Vivaldi with a twist,paintbrushed wet kisses,touch, sweet careless touch,sweat and summer nights.
A woman gets on a train in Union Station headed East.The train will travel at a hundred miles an hour,it will make no stops until…