Don't run, don't hit, don't abandon the prize of a heart torn to the ribbons it was wrapped in, it was waiting in. Washed in the blood both our visions shared, all eight of our limbs wore embracing as one to the spider, as the liar With insects crawling between us. Living in ruins, walking on glass from a mirror we were glancing in, seeing something breaking in. A shadow came walking out from apologetic flame, from blood in the lane where mixtures turn into departures, where significance turns into reminiscence. A tide on the side of a cheek, where Heaven kissed, where roses left scents now carried in arms towards the burial of a familiar sound. Your blood is my poison, a venom that turns the season. Rewind me from perfect red to a bleak uncertainty.