A midday lack, I'm sworn into restless days and cold wet shoes
I am here under your son chrysanthemum

If our bodies were to meet it would feel like this
Cathartic and empty
Swirling distance from the stairs
Cold and gray when you wake up in my room
Without me

You're like a tomb, you are closed to me
In my soul i'll keep you close to me

As children we walked in thru garden gates
Cloaked in fog with nothing but our bodies
I am your son chrysanthemum