Tunes in my head: Belladonna by Siouxsie and the Banshees
Books of a page: Lolita by Vladamir Nabakov
Atmosphere: Exhausted.
and now we sit here, stuck together
paper and glue, lace and leather
one thing not as strong as other
musician and fan, child and mother
we get torn apart, twisted and frayed
like the chicken and the egg it laid
what happens when the bond breaks, rust
existence sans meaning, love without trust
when the time comes for one more breakdown
the pillow becomes trapped in an eiderdown
is there a few more years to tell
the difference between hope and the spell
what happens when the cello moves away
the staples are ripped from the page
the screen doesn't make so much sense
without the final scene or the correct tense
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