ECHOES FEND FOR THEMSELVES AFTER MIDNIGHT

Interlaced tongues sweetest tortures, and for you a crown of hawthorn

Come mornings lame duck situation, at first light a passion stillborn

Your carriage awaits full of treasures, a catalogue of what was before

Love letters returned back to sender, your key on the hook by the door

You split with a satchel of shared dreams, and a trunk full of burning desire

In your wake left a parcel of memories, and finger band of barbed wire

Those bared paintings of you in the grand hall, the place where all sinners got wed

Now hang on the walls of a bedroom, where all our spare tears once were shed

Words aimed below the belt and pulled punches, a ripped bodice, a craving that devours

Then the affirmation of stained sheets, hungover from the afterglow hours

You travelled back to the place where you came from, climbed dizzy heights just to…