I’m just like my mother, she sighed only she hides it better. I see colours in words, I’ll draw pictures for you. Come hear me speak of all my longings all my goodness all my cruelty, when was the last time I cried. Truth be told I can’t remember. There was once a man who loved me, he was older he left this scar and a book about an angel who made her way back home to God. I still think about him sometimes, running my finger up it’s spine. May he fall into a well, he left me old before my time. So I’m writing this here song out on a sick bag just for you, in the hope that in the process I might conjure up a few scenarios filled with old ghost who wander round dressed in your clothes come over here you fucked up Muse read me Sassoon out of your head on Altar Wine. She paused for air, she bit her lip, took a candle and struck the match. The smoke the flame the flow the Persian curtains start to dance. Fix your eyes upon this mirror, let me grab my spirit level. Swear you’ll get me safe forever, tell the truth and shame the devil. So I’m writing this here song out on a sick bag just for you, in the hope that in the process I might conjure up a few scenarios filled with old ghost who wander round dressed in your clothes come over here you fucked up Muse read me Sassoon out of your head on Altar Wine.