Helpsichord

(Gill got what she was after
When she flew into the door
Dissasociative reality asking
Are you coming back for more?)

When I was the preacher
And you were the flitting prey
Cusped so tight together
Under the weather

When I was lost to the world
You come and find me
In a tiny backwards garden

Lookalike no more
As we are shown the door
The end is in sight
Good night