the life we'd built was full of cupcakes
tonight they tore the old town down
the tomb we saved produced no shelter
the cry you faked went with your charms
your love has walked some ghastly alleys
but noone ever died there in your arms.
and your little baby's scolding mommy
now wears a pauper princes' paper crown.
the lovely lights of dying cities
confused or bruised but never harmed
they leave a tumor bulge beneath our chestbones
and a silver haze on musky dawns
when we lay still awake at full alarm,
back in the pitfalls of our wedding bed,
and they spotted us with purple stains
i'll claim we'd tried to crawl but ran instead.
