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Matchbox Fantasy

[font=Century]This skin is burning through itself
These fingers are forming
Ancient webs of lace between them
Your finger against my lips
Halt the tiny seamstresses from there intricate work
[/font]To sew together these trembling rubies
These are the delicate thread bars
I must serve my silent sentence behind
It no longer matters
I am already tongue tied
In the absence of sound
My heart opens up on itself
The key lies in your hand
Wind it up
This strange engine
My clockwork heart
Open it up like an old music box
And it will speak a symphony of volumes
My eyes are wide open
My eyes�
My eyes�
Born in star studded skies
Your hands are weaving my hair
Liquid gold slips from your finger tips
These slow falling diamond tears
Become the crystal prison
In which you capture my wild spirit
You beg me to let my lashes fall upon my cheeks
The reflection of your soul
In these powerful orbs
Is all too much for your tattered heart to bear
And our patchwork wings
Have left us falling
Through this storm caste sky
All our lives When will we find
Our promised sanctuary
My matchbox fantasy