There are blades slicing the air, keeping this great blackbird afloat.
Lanterns and fireworks defend the skies of Arkansas.
You died in the snow, and froze.
Thousands of eyes closed at once. I'll dig your graves.
I hope you get away. If you're an art thief with confidence I hope that you may the faint searchlights evade. Shaping a gun from your hand in lieu of a plan.
Now you and I, lost deep in abandoned mines.
Can't hide the tears we cried 'cause we were just kids.
