In my mind you're brought to life by mischeivious cards and velvet tricks,
"Those dice are there for rolling girls!" ... 2,4,666.
Your shop is a birthmark hidden between forgotten streets,
and I am the only one who knows you're there.
Your shop is an abandoned circus,
and you are the Ringleader.
You skip like a jester in front of a corpse-quiet audience.
The smell of dust creates itself,
as your painted grin leaks flowers and flames.
Your shop is a mutinied pirate ship,
and you are the Captain.
Your salt-soaked sails are an emerald emblem,
Clinging to the helm, braving the screaming storm,
The Captain always goes down with his ship.
Your shop is a crumbling castle,
and you are the King.
Your kingdom is all domino-houses and jewellery-box towns.
Resonating, crumbling memories are all that's left
Of a civillisation long dead.
In my mind you're brought to life by mischevious cards and velvet tricks,
[i]And I am the only one who know you're there.
