The Trade

he drew a queen she drew a king
he wouldn't fold she wouldn't win
and even though it was too late
he couldn't picture his own fate

a starry sky embraced his empathy
a blinding daylight in the dead of the night
an indescribable delight

the time was right to make a trade,
to take no prisoners in a mutual raid

sanity drowning in drains,
paintings in rusted frames
they played their parts in the oldest of games

they played with fire, desire, and lust for the prize
with the odds of one truth against a thousand lies
stuck in the middle, in a masquerade of maybes and pain, lost all in vain

they had to tear it all apart, fuck up their best shot
anger and tears was all they got
believed in nothing, lost everything...



that was the story of a trade, some broken hearts and all the cards laid
sanity drowned in drains, paintings left with no frames
an even score in the oldest of games