i'm staring again, into fuzzy film grain -
all frescoed and contained.
my jacket smells like cloves. you taste like rain.
if only we could all be like we are in our memories,
all perfect and plain,
even our mistakes could be explained

by a network of wire, design and blame,
and diagrams of guilt.
i'm staring into dawn. i'm testing wills.
oh and i am feeling fine: mist in lungs, missed in mind
you're built and rebuilt -
a mechanistic, perfect wire-frame

that's programmed to think, shift reason and faith
til everything's in line
with what you should have done wrong at the time.
carefully, i touch you, adjusting the image to
connect and refine
the plot behind this tinny coppery taste.

i will open my eyes, i will stumble and swear;
you'll sigh at me and frown.
my hand will touch my mouth and i'll be down.
and it will be ok because i planned it out this way
with me on the ground
and you at fault and saying that it's fair

for you to be right, for me to be gone,
you'd sure like to be free -
that's how i have decided it will be.
i'm the bad guy, i'm a saint; doesn't matter, it's a feint
we're all wires and pleas
as we stare up from the ground and into dawn.

see i figured it out, it's a matter of when
an educated hunch.
i will make you beat me to the punch.
and you'll call me a liar and hope that i die and i'll know
with that sickening crunch:
you're just a girl i'll never see again.