Too late when you realized we were dancing in quicksand – too late and too deep, and you caught unaware; you didn't know that my love was an ambush. You didn't know that my heart was a snare.
Look, I am shook from my shallows, ten thousand leagues deep – my heartbeats were war- ships; you drowned the whole fleet, but I'll hold on to hope like sand holds on to heat that for all of my troubles, you could love me, at least.