Bled Red Wine

The lost and found is back in my hometown.
 Where a universe of sound amounts to dust on a shelf.
 In a psychedelic hell souls pass by but cannot be held
 One drink from the well romances all that falling out.
 Bloody Mary in the ground, back in my hometown
 Under a mountain of doubt built up to settle down
 Across the canal, the iron roads are running parallel
 Toy wooden horses and summertime soldiers burning on that carousel.
 I heard through the grapevine that you were beautiful at the bar last night.
 I hope you had a great time blushing while you bled red wine.