waiting room to hell

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we're floating on a rock, i mean, as far as we're aware.
we're so in love with the future, but the now is mighty rare.
i just might declare a state of affairs when nothing's there;
let this rain pour over me like i am overly prepared.

the piano keys are cold, like the strings of her guitar.
i'm an advocate of weed, but she solely smokes cigars.
let the ashtrays overfill; let the incense burn as well.
this salt lamp makes the room look like a waiting room to hell.

i woke up in sweat, my heart beating blue,
cocaine dreamin' of the midnight view
from the top of the penthouse, just you and me.
cocaine dreamin' in a burgundy blue.

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