Prismic Chance

Building contractor makes a quick buck.
Incoming disaster overcomes luck.
Fixated horse racers turn left or go bust.
Diabolic social representatives duck
Under swinging crystal chandelier stuff
Like Miracle Whip, conversational mistrust.
Waltz the dancers until they’re done,
Tambouriners stake out corners and have fun.
Dandelions picked, fistfuls of childhood love.
Echoes in the chamber, let the drummer run.

Because the skirts spin to fans,
And there’s coats on the stand.
Nobody lends a hand,
But they stamp their feet like mad.
Candlelight keeps shadows glad,
But reflective mirrors can’t
Achieve more than a prismic glance.
A cheap door to cataclysmic chance,
Just leave behind storehouses of macabre brands.

So I’ma check the rope,
Skip out on the drones,
I’m done with finding bones,
Sneak upstairs, creep all alone,
Master of the house must keep a quiet cove,
Nobody is close, but I’m feeling kinda cold.
Carpet got unrolled without a care in the world.
Trip and a fall and that’s all you need to know.
Thunder and a crash, that’s all that they heard below.

Because the skirts spin to fans,
And there’s coats on the stand.
Nobody lends a hand,
But they stamp their feet like mad.
Candlelight keeps shadows glad,
But reflective mirrors can’t
Achieve more than a prismic glance.
A cheap door to cataclysmic chance,
Just leave behind storehouses of macabre brands.

It’s gonna be okay.
Yeah.
It’s gonna be okay.
Yeah.

Hallway both ways before me.
I’ll wait until I can see,
I hit my head and my knee,
So I think I might sit here.
For a bit, just for a minute,
Lemme get back from where I was spinning.
Winning, my head’s unhinging,
Is it normal to see songbirds building bridges?
Been a while since I could think straight.
Kindled up thin sticks that I break.
Making funny lines like I’m great,
But hoping all the time that I’m not fake.

Because the skirts spin to fans,
And there’s coats on the stand.
Nobody lends a hand,
But they stamp their feet like mad.
Candlelight keeps shadows glad,
But reflective mirrors can’t
Achieve more than a prismic glance.
A cheap door to cataclysmic chance,
Just leave behind storehouses of macabre brands.

But I found a helping hand.
Just when I thought i couldn’t stand.
Guess the quiet cove contained a Man
Who understood my tumbling crash
Was more than an annoying noise to gnash
At inside, no to Him I guess I wasn’t bad.
No scolding of my skipping ropes, instead he gave a glass
Of a cold, refreshing something from a flask.

Because the skirts spin to fans,
And there’s coats on the stand.
Nobody lends a hand,
But they stamp their feet like mad.
Candlelight keeps shadows glad,
But reflective mirrors can’t
Achieve more than a prismic glance.
A cheap door to cataclysmic chance,
Just leave behind storehouses of macabre brands.

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