The sacred and the scared align and 
call on me to break the ballerina's spine.
My heart has fallen where he lands, when 
he lands.
    The sound of every word you said hit
like a wave of infra red... I'd really like 
to stay but I've got to go home, alone.
    Summer came and summer went while 
we contrived to re-invent the scene serene.
    The sound of every word you said hit
like a wave of infra red ; I'd really like to 
stay...
    Frosted glass the window stains your
face and shattered ice becomes kaleidoscopes 
of colour, taste and sound and turns the 
ground into the liquid of the sea, the 
liquid friction of the see-saw swaying, 
drugged among the shards of splintered 
snow to where the ultraviolet rays stain
the whiteness of your skin where wheels 
of white light shine and spin towards the
essence of the end, then re-beginning 
in slow-motion... slow-motion...