The Red Stuff In Your Eyes and Lipstick

Why do you wait,
For the portraits,
Coz you know you've never lost it,
To the mystique eyes and deliberate age,
Of a one plus two in a rocketed fuel,
She lays off on the balcony,
Screaming for action.

Maybe time is a sin,
For those who cannot begin,
My eyes are falling apart,
From curves to heart,
You made it wrong from the start.

Sometimes it's time for the anger to shade,
This world collapsed,
In the arms of a gaze,
Two years, maybe a period of latency,
But then again I'm at lost for numbers.

We need to start,
Don't resuscitate,
We need to start,
A relapse of fate,
You got paint,
All over the walls didn't you?
What else is there to do.

Like blood in love with glue.
I'm still in love with kleptomaniacs of the century,
I got gas,
But never for the poverty,
Shame and pastiche of everything,
Wouldn't you,
Love me too.

It doesn't matter if the Freudian ethic's alone,
The sun will rise even if you turn off the phone,
It's like a libel and a song for the cynic,
You're not in it.

There's no rhyme to argue,
Nothing will turn to you,
When you turn to nothing.
So we'll sing,
Bring about the kings,
Of the elder age,
And a lost mistake,
Of a smoke machine,
And a daily routine,
All of these fantasies,
All find a stage to you.

Like the northern apes,
Said,
"These dreams weren't as daft when you dreamt them"
So let's forget them.