Pulse of Breathing

Enter the velvet, black round room where neon teeth are blinding bone and whispers from limp spider webs are drowned by the pulse of breathing Windows melted a along time ago trap the boarded up beats, and the aqua flow of the shadowed strobe lights - here they go spinning lunatic top There's a one way only revolving door with scuff marks in leather from ceiling to floor and cots to sink into when you can dance no more slip perspiration coma Crunch up the moments like broken glass and swallow the mood which will surely pass Only the pulsing will last and last when your eyes beat back stiff dreams Exit the velvet, black round room by the way of your memory of life before you know what it's like to stir up your blood and be drowned by the pulse of breathing...