you re running your mouth won t help keep stride cantankerous the missives that force recall you d hide i could taste the salt from your dishwasher eyes imperial weightless much to all of our surprise the fugitives have won and i will occupy abandoned station tonight i ll call upon some invitation of light cause the fugitives have won if i held you up to fire i would see a reddish frame of rust around your soul s transparency and you you with your beauty and i with my spleen i ll hitchhike to your bonfire in my suit of gasoline