I'll sing to the rhythm of your walk
As you write me a poem about my feet
Tell me stories of lost confessions
And how you love the back of my knees
Whisper above the thunder's cry
Tickle my earlobes with your breath
Confuse me with your good intentions
And gather all that is left.





Move with the sway of stupid wordplay
As i count our blessings on your finger tips
The only people who can hurt us are ourselves
It's rather sad, isn't it?