Projected above the bed the shadow of my lovers thought bubble He dreams of the same carnival trash through which i sneak off for a stroll There some connection between mass species extinction and common production values of ass I trudge back to our crypt to revise the script Dawns light warped my costume's fit Salt the strawberries My smeared rodeo clown face-painted has stained the twisted blanket Dumb with the confidence of coupling our dry kisses knit His false snore, the whistle vacuum of the door And the whole goddamn outside comes rushing in The sunrise diffuses his dream's shadow, relieves my forgiver's burden But I'll still salt the strawberries.