There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold and she's buying a stairway to heaven. When she gets there she knows if the stores are all closed with a word she can get what she came for.

it's all too hard to explain.

You had such grace in the end. I wish I could remember what colour your eyes were, but every time I looked at you my mind went blank. You had the best damn Sunday dress at the end of the world. The wall of flames that consumed you and everything that was good, "not with a band but a whimper." What would you do? Arms spread welcoming The Impending Nothing.