Bloody Mary

This is the shorter story of your fingers on a glass of coke.
Your dirty smile and my dirty smoke.
I don’t know why but we are here wasting time,
when the glass broke you didn’t mind

Your city is tattooed on your face
and you only wish to go.

But I’ll go on burning the days of Bloody Mary to her soul
And her words, her words…

This is the shorter story of the gold in your golden hair,
sometimes scared and sometimes fair.
This is the shorter story of our killing down the street.
We’ll never more be you and me.

It was ending from the beggining
but we never said goodbye.

But I’ll go on burning the days of Bloody Mary to her soul
And her words, her bloody words…