Light spills reckless, cuts through the haze, Storm-washed streets set the sky ablaze. A hooded ghost, a shaggy white hound, Butterflies spiral without a sound. A path appears, then slips away, A door half-open says, “Come or stay?” Trees lean in like they know my name, The road is water, the fish untame. Time moves sideways, thin as mist, Footsteps echo, slip through my fist. Nothing ahead, nothing behind, Nothing to chase, nothing to find. The ghost steps forward, takes my hand, The world tilts strange, my vision sways, And I gotta pee. ───── [Lyrics © Mario Caoile]
