Narrows - Final Mass

Cadillac ( that we rode in, it felt so) so soft and fast.
Fills my eyes with ( the wind) smoke and ( with tears and) sap.
But that just was not enough (I thought we were happy). (So you leaving) Stings like lime (and tastes like) turpentine. (All this time behind) Veils. Blind. Concurbines. Blurred.Glass.Final Mass.