♩♪ Drowning in 'the Blue Nile', He sent me 'Downtown Lights', I hadn't heard it in a while,

The feared General of ShinRa drove his luxurious car through the quiet boulevards of Midgar. His fingers, delicate and devoid of calluses despite his years of action on the front lines, reached out and turned up the volume of the radio.

My boredom's bone deep, This cage was once just fine, Am I allowed to cry?

I dream of cracking locks, Throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks, Crashing into him tonight, He's a paradox, I'm seeing visions, am I bad? Or mad? Or wise?

Sephiroth closed his eyes and allowed the breeze to kiss his cheeks, his hair fluttering in the wind's course.

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh, only in my mind? One slip and falling back into the hedge maze, oh, what a way to die,

I keep recalling things we never did, Messy top lip kiss, How I long for our trysts,

Did it truly never happen? Sephiroth asked himself, questioning and doubting his sanity.

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

He wanted to prove that nothing had ever happened in an attempt to salvage his crimes—in vain and futilely. Or did he want to prove that it wasn't his delusional make-believe?

These fatal fantasies, giving way to laboured breath, taking all of me, We've already done it in my head, My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name, Building up like waves, crashing over my grave,

The touch had been imprinted on his skin like a branding iron. But how could this be an illusion?

What if I roll the stone away? They're gonna crucify me anyway, What if the way you hold me, Is actually what's holy? If long suffering propriety is what they want from me, They don't know how you've haunted me ... so stunningly, I choose you and me ... Religiously ...

Sephiroth turned the wheel abruptly and pressed the pedal even harder. The roar of the car howled, piercing through the quiet of the night.

"Not yet," a hushed whisper.