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Frantic Time-code
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1
Curtain call,
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this is the last stanza Ill write
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inside of this notebook,
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guarded by angel eyes.
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With teardrops of crimson that fall from incisions.
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Strategically placed by my razorblade visions.
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And, I cant stand the scent of your hand on my shoulder
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inside of this room where you just grow colder.
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All Ive got is this time-lapse between frames
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to sit you down and try and explain
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that every ounce of thought in my heart is stirred,
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and Ive been scratching your name into the Times crossword.
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Intermission doll,
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and Im falling backwards
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into this city that keeps me drinking.
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Im feeling pretentious,
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but only towards your friends
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because they cant compute the love that hits when our palms press.
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Sealed with whiskey kisses
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and scalpel incisions,
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these are the thoughts I have when this setting grows dark.
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Love hides in your eyes, so what the hell should I say?
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And this is the soundtrack to your silent movie darling,
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and these frames melt into such a sexy scene.
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And this is the soundtrack to your silent movie darling,
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and these frames melt into, oh, such a lovely scene.
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