She smokes in the dark behind my eyes,nMy eyes sunk blackened in my head,nMy head sunk sleepless someplace ‘thin the bednAhead a me, a sprawling white-wash tapestrynSebastian, he smiles at me,nYes, as the arrows pierce him, still he smilesnnAnd he says “This don’t feel so bad…”nnOh, here in the dark beneath these sheets,nI watched a play performed by spirits midst the twisting waves of heatnAnd when the play was through, I had a wakin dream a you,nYeah dreams all I have, and they speak wordless in your voicennAnd with St. Augustine one mornin’ at the road-sidenWith the day around us pulsing, bathed in melancholic dew,nThe sun it parted, just a moment, by request a gold-spun angels,nIn the cracks between the rays I heard them sing for you…nnI wrote a song about your eyes,nA dozen lines for every time I thought bout your eyes meeting minenAnd when the song was done, your smile, it spawned another one,nYour hair, some melody was so divine, I knew that melody weren’t minennWhere once was nothing, less than nothing hind my smilenNow sits Sinéad in savage purple, an I sing to her sometimes,nAn though I know I don’t deserve to speak her name, I can’t forgetnThat it is all I’ll ever have of her, I’ll take what I can getnnAnd this don’t feel so bad…