"Lazellas From The Ocean Floor".
Your green luminescent eyes stab through the rain
into my window, as windmills grind out another storm.
What have you taken that leaves this room so cold?
The garden we never planted licks my hand for affection.
Summer comes disguised as a leprous lover, who
would embrace us upon our desolate palate,
with a mutilated body so dead and warm.
A bell carries her further, along the road.
As the fog rolls across our bedroom floor,
I close the door to keep the oceans out.