Room 52

In the middle of the night, I still hear the call of his night bird. Our love is like a white winged dove, singing on the edge of seventeen. Yet, I stand back because nothing ever changes when you become strangers. Spent half my life hiding away in the Imperial Hotel where my heart ached after the glitter of us faded. I stared at him like he was a rare painting, a photograph that I couldn't put down even if I tried, or the memories ached my heart painfully. Newport cigarettes couldn't fix this poisonous feeling sitting on the edge of my heart. There you go, selling your hard advice for 24 karat gold to feel worthy. Tell me, does agony knock at your door when you're alone? Are you no longer afraid when you're in trouble? I'm just a storm that goes insane when loneliness kills me at night. I sat wrapped around your finger, screaming out till my chest caved in and my lungs were no longer polluted with your air.