You'Re Morphine

I cry for you with poppy tears, My lover somniferum, sleep-bringing wonder, Dreamer. For the sweet, delirious Heaven Of your pure, red rock heart, And for the black tar incense of your opiate Lips, laced with midnight oil. You're the White Lady's gold dust; My own brand of Mr. Blue. Poppies will put you to sleep, like a seed, You taste like addiction, drawn into me as indigo smoke. I feed off the essence of you in my burning dreams.