A bit of glass in his hand...,
Helped those brittle bones keep walkin' out.

A lake at the bottom of all that he was,
They said "You'll soon forget it all."
"..You'll just grow out of it."

Living in darkness,
The deep end could never be
Close enough                  
                   Close enough.

He could stomach the running,
But the rye took his money
Away from him

He doesn't care if he's hungry.
The past fills him up like
Champagne.

So he asked,

"What good is water, if it's not on fire?"

"It helps so much."
                           "...so much..."
                                     "...so much."

Dancing in puddles,
Every shallow wave breaking him.
Here come the whispers;
Run River, Run.


"Just,..."
"...Just one more glass and then..."

I want to sip your sultry sundry,
seething at the very sight of you,
knowing our skin could never be close enough.

I want to embrace the wave that is you,
holding you over me as if a sheet,
knowing I could never be warmer.

I want to whisper words that echo timelessly throughout your whimsical world and tell you everything's going to be okay.
Lay you down and hear the sound of soft and effervescent love.
Will you stand juxtaposed at my supposed opposing opinion?
I need your love.
I need your life.
Without it time is pointless.
Careless.
Endless.

Insanity soothes me,
Smooths me over,
Keels and kills
The pain of normality.
This breath I breathe,
Comes with it a seething grain of salt,
A grain I'd rather see crumble,
in the stumbling bumbling idiosyncrasy,
you call a ******* culture,
Choke.