| Make my bed in droughts of beryl
|
| I haven’t shot this thing in years
|
| Do you think I’ll fold?
|
| Calloused hands of detriment
|
| From a crossbow flinch of gasping air
|
| Do you think I’ll…
|
| So long, don’t fall apart
|
| The words have made a perfect burden
|
| Sewn along your hollow heart
|
| We’ll never hassle you
|
| Remember at the hips where we once joined
|
| Severed by the scalpel when we were young
|
| Do you think I’ll fold?
|
| Held under the water in a blacklist trough
|
| Buried in the plots of your front steps
|
| Do you think I’ll fold?
|
| Incinerate the faith that you were taught
|
| Incinerate your crown of useless flesh
|
| Do you think I’ll…
|
| So long, don’t fall apart
|
| The words have made a perfect burden
|
| Sewn along your hollow heart
|
| We’ll never hassle you
|
| And if this life belonged to me
|
| you can stop the rain from falling
|
| Tie it on in your mind
|
| Its your noctourniquet
|
| And in your fight to live and breathe
|
| Then you keep it to the night
|
| Tie it on in your mind
|
| Its your noctourniquet
|
| Made my bed in droughts of beryl
|
| I haven’t shot this thing in years
|
| Do you think I’ll fold?
|
| Your color seems to flower from your hissing tongue
|
| Your livery of siblings cut from saffron cloth
|
| Do you think I’ll fold?
|
| I’ll reach out through the pavement with the shortest straw
|
| Lavera, don’t play in your mother’s drawer
|
| Do you think I’ll fold?
|
| Come hasten to the first drop of endless flasks
|
| Heretics and peasants with a quench forboding
|
| Do you think I’ll…
|
| So long, don’t fall apart
|
| The words have made a perfect burden
|
| Sewn along your hollow heart
|
| We’ll never hassle you
|
| So long, don’t fall apart
|
| The words have made a perfect burden
|
| Sewn along your hollow heart
|
| Whatever one takes, whatever one takes for you |