Through the eyes of Cognac, I see these demons that have sought to greet me
Toes curl upon a cold floor, yearning a ground more yielding
Should I look up to the stars, I will die tonight
Your glittering eyes coast into focus 
My body is motionless yet I crash into the unfolding kaleidoscope,
Enveloped in your misty existence
Your frantic voice berates my ears
Hands that once held my world,
Now press delicately to my skin
Torn, to fight or to wake so sweetly
I remain still, hovering in this dream so real
Pour the philosophical musings of our late nights
Back into my voice
So that if only once more, my tongue would know
The beauty of such glorious days
My newest suicide lies within your fingertips,
Seamless silence would show you, if you would only listen
Yet amongst your echoing desperation of why
My lips cease to open, filled instead
With a memory of intoxicating existence,
What I lived for leading me to crave forever your memory,
As my motionless form is lowered,
Only six feet from your being so ethereal
The Sunshine Theory 