The sound of a voice, liquid flowing down wire
stir feelings hermetically sealed in a jar
sweet taste of temptation, painted on velvet
in mute colours stolen from Rembrandt's heart
...
One tear burns the eye like acid
when you have one foot in the grave
and smoke is rising from a pyre
of what was once a house and home
...
Softly the night holds us in a velvet grip
showers us in hours of neon and bliss
swimming in deep, walking on high
cloaked in anonymity, we slide right by
...