pastry sharp

by the time i filter down to you a finger for an invitation too sane to find the feel cotton blood a jewelry box the last to leave the last to come the elevator waits to take you down she throws a prayer you'll never catch and i'm not holding on baby's in the engine room alright got the trap door by the feathers dressing for your date with the dumb anyway drunken sailor ripe heart attack station sharp as pastry now for the baby to find