Snowflakes, bamboo leaves raked
Flames set to burn the big house down
The stakes are risen higher
With pyre of unfamiliar faces
Races on the intoxicated flyer
Shy times in the distant colony
Stop it, stop it; stop this nonsense
Did you not feel it in those moody eyes
Did you not see it in those smiling eyes
Did you not catch it in those guilty eyes
He takes her, she prizes the lyre
His twitch slices the stuttered paces
Laces of rum for our ever evil sire
Cries of madness; instant felony
Ashes, floats of paper debris flaked
Sound frames of reference, uncoupled
