i'll stay if it's the last thing i do.
i look for something new,
but old is familiar and tastes like you.
i'm counting the days on hands tainted blue,
shivering, cold, in the storm of what's true.
trying to play with the cards that i drew,
but i'll always fold, always fall through.
over the span of an ocean and a year or two,
i'm standing here shaking, waiting for your cue.