It Isn't Clean

Drenched in red and shattered rules Once bent in yellow cab carousels Your triptych blurred in my eyes of jewels We plagued a triad of hotels Faulty wires trip the false alarm On the second night, on the seventh floor If I feel no pain I see no harm Your tears spilt down my neck feel warm Even if it's pure, it isn't clean Even if I'm yours, it isn't me Even if it's pure, it isn't clean Even if I'm yours, it isn't me The candied moon above Canal Street's dead I felt a sliver of it in my chest I like the way you touch my head Keep me fed on fish's flesh Shoving sweets inside my cheek I spit them out into your mailbox Something in your chest that's weak I keep my spare parts under locks Even if it's pure, it isn't clean Even if I'm yours, it isn't me Even if it's pure, it isn't clean Even if I'm yours, it isn't me You've memorized the hands I fold From where you buried your head to hide You can keep what's left, the gold If I can compromise your right side I reversed my words and pressed Dragged my finger, wet, across the glass On the other side you're fully dressed And I withdraw before it cracks Even if it's pure, it isn't clean Even if I'm yours, it isn't me Even if it's pure, it isn't clean Even if I'm yours, it isn't me