We the crazed drink nectar from the flame
And steep our longing in ash-filled water.
Unexpected guests we are
In the ballrooms of the sane,
Where we dance like eels consumed by fire.
There is no shame in the irrational thought
If it is born of pain and love.
There is no shame in crying for the moon,
For we are wolves in a kennel full of Chihuahuas.
Now is the time for our tongues to rage
Mutiny against the mind
To deliver our souls to the sanctuaries
That we have left behind.
That we have left behind.
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