Hadley

Is it a love of rain, remains of a burning pyre, that you rage against, sitting in this gloom, ask who does the hire, you never leave the room, full of problems turn away, listen to the criers, habits not easy to break, to do what you do, your eyes search the wire, it means so much to you, beg offers off the saved, excuse your ice cold ire, nothing is what you gave, whisper at my perfume, drag me through the mire, a sung song never true, no escape by trains, your tongue is on fire, the miracles you crave, beyond any liar.