She

behind the curtains she lives
in the dreamland she wakes
happiness she smokes
and bitterness exhales
she plays the music of pain—
and i see her face through the scores
her everyday is Sunday
and every night the last
she rides the dragons
and chases your nightmares
through the corridors
of X-rated memories
a dream of thousand cats she dreams
and it’s her shadow
jumping on your window sill,
scaring pink elephants
in the head of your girlfriend
listen, i can tell you
why she turned you down—
you’re to catch her
there when she falls
show me your hands—
can they bear the weight of her regrets?
show me your heart—
can it break for her mistakes?
and can you read her tears—
dry and heavy and black,
they’re burning the paper through,
they’re singing and screaming … can you?
and i sometimes wish...
i wish i could make England win
and Balaševic sing different songs
i wish i could sometimes
watch happy-ending movies in her eyes,
drink fire for her and walk the roofs...
i wish i didn’t have
to turn off the lights
‘cause when i wake up
i’m not sure
will i see her there
again