[Verse 1: Henry Lin] The rain last night, rocking to sleep A lullaby beat, cleaning out the scum of the streets A miserable streetlamp with his head hung low Thinking quietly, tentative and still unsure So much pain untold, barbiturate, Monroe's faded smile and thinking back after it unfolds The warmth of my coat, her cold shoulder, the clear scent of rain caressing her perfumed aroma Struck like the trauma of a soldier, or a boxer with no one in his corner Stories of the immigrant's voyage is poignant, abandon everything important, juggling employment Struggle in avoidance for the troubling discordance, falling short of perfect but I'd never want to disappoint them Attempt to drown it all with poison, but learning sorrows are buoyant Her sadistic enjoyment, brought back up in gastric acid, esophagus de-composing a romantic ballad Collage of fragments on the canvas, the blankness, numbingly captured in the callused stanzas Drifting apart on tangents, the absence accompanied by ostinato of the insanity canon Missing in action, once an amorous silence Ringing membranes, dampening the ambulance sirens Curtail fate; premonitions of a derailed monorail on its frail frame, excruciating wail brakes A fatal cage, veil the stale taste before a hail watch the chaos, hand cupping a stoic pale flame Carriages detached, so was I Coloring your tone, suddenly surprised The translucent tears, blinded, an indigo to orange gradient wash above the horizon Happy days evaporate like mist in the alleyway Laughter framed by red lipstick on fancy dates Agony subtly hidden in peripherals, a poet transcending the figurative and the literal Watch residual affection torment the victim, sipping a half empty gla** of optimism The winter sun on the feather adrift I'll see you when the next semester begins