Wearing a sunset of purple

Alice is one of the dreamiest places I've ever been taken to. Play the track from one to the end and lay me face down in the sheets. When I hear this collection of songs, it takes me somewhere within the folds of my brain. It beckons with the stealth of a thief and leads me to a dark garden illuminated by the reflections of solar light. I take my seat on the cold stone, my legs grow into the soft earth, rooted here. Taken as a prisoner in this astral labyrinth of this girl's discretion.

It's my favorite collection of the strange and ugly, yet it has a polished kind of charm that renders me absolutely smitten. I hear the words and my heart starts to melt, over flowing it's chamber. With the dread comes a sense of peace. The will of time is definite. Only a fool resist. Only the lame pretend. When I need to run, I turn it around. I lay here and I remember.

It's a dark place with one distant moon and a host of characters. Each take their place beside me on the seat next to the lake. They tell me their stories. In fragmented speech I learn about their loss. Their temptation. Their lunacy. A life times of lessons imparted to me, the most ignorant of the sort. I replay their performances, an encore for the lonely and the ignored.

"And you'll die with the rose still on your lips.

And in time the heart shaped bone that was your hips.

And the worms they will climb the rugged ladder of your spine,

We're all mad here

And my eyeballs roll this terrible terrain.

And we're all inside a decomposing train.

And your eyes will die like fish and the shore of your face will turn to bone."

Faintly breathing the air.

Throw it away? I'd throw it all away. I'd roll over it's warm carcass on my way out of this place. The licking shadows to my back. I'd leave all this behind in flames. Say the word and it's to the finish line. We could make it there by dinner time. Twist your fingers around mine. Pack yours with mine.