(We’ve) been stained with blood,

(We’ve) been stained for a while now,

Quite a timeless song was sung,

Feeling just to feel alive.

Leave a mark I am yours,

In and out of consciousness.

Quite a quiet song is sung,

Lying between the still life,

 Lying under the stable life,

Within the unratified indulgences.

A certain transcendence of passion,

The disguised guest diluted by name.

With eyes shut we caress,

Fooling even ourselves.

Poking holes and pushing buttons,

Dancing about our fire.