Surrender is two syllables away.
I'm tongue deep in a beautiful thing,
losing all my words along the way.
Half a step from the center of your inferno
floor to ceiling windows watch
the architecture float on down
while smoke beasts howl for reprieve,
finding no relief in your flames.
I've got two heads tonight,
tell me all your dreams:
I could be divine in my solitude, or
just another mouth to feed,
clinging to you.
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