Pieces (Trixie Whitley)

In the graveyard of modern days the sensual touch is all that remains you blew the fragile grace on my skin and in my face Leaving pieces behind, anywhere I go Every time I go I'm leaving behind my soul Leaving pieces of mine, everywhere I go Braking in to pieces every time I grow Constant dozing The rose of the mind flow Emptiness is always on the go Gliding in the mirrors Gathering the symptoms of all we have And all we don't know