The light pierces our breath

And we are falling

                           falling

                                      falling

Where is the man with his hats

And the little rabbit

And the eyes in the trees

The golden gates above us are turning to iron 

And my baby blue dress

Is ripping to shreds on these branches

We are falling into madness 

Like the ink on our fingers warned

The man with his hats has spilled his tea

The rabbit has lost his pocket watch 

The eyes are watching. The eyes are looking away

You are lost somewhere. I am lost here

I am falling

                   falling

                              falling

The light does not pierce this hole