Espresso martini, citrus flavored dreams,
fresh bone marrow at the dinner table, Mom’s sinking.
Cobblestone, martyrstone, dad built this place.
Us young ones run off to the horse stables, muddy feet sinking.
Mama stepped out in the road cause the whole world could see her.
Her blood on the blacktop, flowing and fatal sable sinking.
Esoteric broken crying coming from the flying shutters,
we all went off to faraway places and forgot even the unstable–the sinking.
Memories wrapped in golden resin, the screaming,
Amber. Amber. Amber. We’re all just turntable sinking.