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oneirophreniaSuch a pretty house...and such a pretty garden.
No alarms, and no surprises
No alarms, and no surprises
No alarms, and no surprises...please.
Goodnight, Antarctica. When the night finally blows away and the ice again turns to diamonds, I'll still be here, watching the constellations turn about my head, watching them slowly creep closer to some semblance of right, dreaming about that pretty house and that pretty garden where someday I'll be warm again and all the carbon-monoxide will be breathed up and gone and long forgotten.
No alarms, and no surprises
No alarms, and no surprises
No alarms, and no surprises...please.
Goodnight, Antarctica. When the night finally blows away and the ice again turns to diamonds, I'll still be here, watching the constellations turn about my head, watching them slowly creep closer to some semblance of right, dreaming about that pretty house and that pretty garden where someday I'll be warm again and all the carbon-monoxide will be breathed up and gone and long forgotten.
