setting sail
from a crushed rooftop/
fathoms deep
shallow as a raindrop
attempt to feel
20/20 now
react like gasoline
cornered by a house fire
You can't come clean
beneath the tides of the washout
cut from the filthy cloth
a sucking wound left in our chests
being burned around the heart
the boil under your flesh
hidden at home/chasing a tucked tail now/acting on the instinct/of self haphazard yet
you can't come clean beneath the tides of the washout
THE SHAVING DOWN
IN MILLIGRAMS
WITH A GUN IN YOUR HAND
DIRECTIONLESS
MEMORIES
OF COMBAT ON YOUR HEAD
RAIN CAN'T SOAK WHAT IS NOT THERE...
The first thrill
demands another
consequence
the trigger of the operative playing russian roulette with a full chamber
miserable outcome
one and the same
you can'tcome clean
beneath the tides of the washout
