3Story

[maggot]

My three story house
Has a lot of spirits
All of them aren't good

They walk on wind
And flee the coming of the sun
Some look like old friends
But sour in lone darkness
It's far fetched to act perplexed
And expect excellence from pestilence
The decadent dance
Two left feet and left to my own defense
I'll trade reason for a season of your coveted glances
Subtle trances train my thoughts
To offer no interpretation
From inside this locked box.