Jonathan

There's a machine that measures a resonance—

 

The full scope of sound rolled off your bottom lip.

 

I caught myself drooling again,

 

(that is)...

 

I don't think I believe in a certain something.

 

You have to have been indivisible—

 

ratio's I don't care to know.

 

The cards stacked up on a table.

 

The corkscrew kills and then the hole.

 

Making it a picture perfect harmony,

 

With dangling eyes by a stair-

 

case.

 

And.point—

 

I'm finding it a glimmer to believe

 

That this life could be fair to me.

 

Spin the bottle to your lover,

 

make it big and come back with a name,

 

Because some kind of love is a forgotten fame