Exquisite Corpse

I see you smoking memories 

from a pipe made up of hope 

holding future with the right hand 

feeling safe within the fog 

Something is hidden in the left one 

your fear’s afraid of what it is 

exquisite hunger’s in your eyes 

the tears had left them open wide 

Pleasure and turmoil intertwine  

you wonder which one has control 

then you reveal the poignant tool 

and clouds around you seem to break 

It is the ticket to deliverance 

to free the path from all the mud 

then you take in the last puff 

and let the left decide what’s right.

Santos & Alba