1. |
||||
|
There are more holes in the floors of Heaven than they let on.
And more reasons than not to break the necks of swans.
I won't leave my bed for days,
Or melt down the gold from my veins.
Where your eyes are supposed to be,
Nothing. Nothing that resembles me.
Where your eyes are supposed to be,
I see nothing.
They all have painted teeth,
Hoping the rope breaks or at least a release.
Put me to sleep, framed in cement.
Salt my skin until it's transparent.
Pull the color from my lips.
Push your finger through my eyelids.
Crush my windpipe,
Carve my ribs into keys.
Unwanted. Unloved.
And I don't need a thing.
|
||||
2. |
Trust Issues
02:48
|
|||
|
Another light has gone out again.
Is it an airport terminal or a hospital bed?
My throat dries and swells with each unanswered ring.
Did you find a new lover?
Did God take you from me?
An unlucky head, self deceptive and alone.
What I wouldn't give for you to pick up your phone.
Is that your machine, or just the voice in my brain?
Should I apologize now for everything that I'll say?
Silky hair, long legs, and porcelain.
Trace my fingers over skin stretched too thin.
Don't talk to me like we're in love,
And forget my name the moment we're done.
Press your lips to the back of my ear,
I haven't been myself in years.
Just touch the scales on the back of my hands.
The bags under my eyes are filled with sand.
Plow the top soil, leave my body sore.
I claw at my skin because I miss yours.
Carve my words into your finger tips,
And try to sink your teeth into my bottom lip.
Pry your fingers from around my neck.
Brave my excuses, "You're a fucking mess".
Bruise my body and shake my throat.
You're an absent minded Holy Ghost.
|
||||
3. |
Heavens
01:19
|
|||
|
I drove by your house again.
It doesn't feel right without you here.
Slide your fingers through the holes in his wrist,
Maybe I'll see you in a couple of years.
Driving by your house stops today,
I know I fucking said that before.
Missing you is just getting in the way.
Shared bodies, romanticized war.
Lick the gaps between my teeth,
Feel your soul beneath your feet.
Your last breath, my veins compressed.
I hope everything is fine in Heaven.
|
||||
4. |
Hoof Prints
01:19
|
|||
|
Born again into a fear of death,
I'm working towards poor while the church stays rich.
Armageddon propaganda and (dead) end times.
Pray for your own heavens, not fucking mine.
Pray to violence,
Your God won't remember my name.
|
||||
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