In your stained glass eyes and colourful tears,
I see through to the fire burning in your heart
Calmed not even by the cold tile of the bathroom floor.
As the party ends and the liquor ceases to flow,
The moon rises like a curtain on a theatre stage,
Crushing the sun and collapsing on you like a curse.
The sound of the clock ticking on the wall seems endless
As time passes, but you stay the same.
Despite the burden of the world on your shoulders,
I can still smell the smoke.