Hard not to choke on smoking paint
A soul survived an indoor fire
There's soot on everything
The embers glow in the remains
When the lens is stained with blackened grease?
And still retrieve the heart?
The liquid under film noir?
Back to the scene before the blaze
Behind the scenes, someone misplaced
Pitch in the rain machine
Spray painting the white screen
When the lens is stained with blackened grease?
And still retrieve the heart?
The liquid under film noir?
Poor, poor blackbirds, wrapt in shadow
Strewn like pebbles on dead meadows
Help me please, I've lost my brother
Summers song so cruelly smothered
Now I live in my camera obscura
And so I ran back to the end
And it simply spelled ‘The End'