Drop Another Dime

Phone back another time.
And let it ring a little longer,
when you're not spitting me a line; please, drop another dime.
Though I had tried to run away,
that old glass wall just wanted me to stay.
It had a scratched up, shaken up, euphoric kind of way...
And a transparent sort of white light, that lit up another day.
But the terms that we had stood on,
were made of iron and white metal.
The insides littered with truth,
lined with golden lotus petals; and dreams
that wouldn't come alive anymore.
They were so far gone, they could never come alive anymore.
So far done, that you would say it all again;
and I would spit it in your face,
that this is now, and that was then,
I could never believe you, when you said:
the deformation age is dead,
and that thoughts can rape your mind.
It was something I would find . . .
So forgive me when I ask,
of you to give me one more change and please;
phone back another time.