The world lives at midnight and the quantum tide is yet to turn,
Consequences without life infuriates trees of Octopuses,
I hear her scream in the silence of her mind,
My friend my beautiful friend,
She spirals on carousels of infliction,
Touching falling grounds in feathers of gold,
My friend,
Drifting with intent,
Scars grounded in allies of Rue,
Knees on high she's thrown fivers craving favours,
Blossom falls like razrs of reminders,
Engaged in games of disappointment aims,
My beautiful friend only seeks an end.
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