Chasing wine with cigarettes--I can hold your face but I could never hold you.
My love, you are far too heavy;
Dense with things I never should have told you.
At the time, a sweet release for me
But I did not know I would have to pick them back up inside of you.
One day I will look at myself and wonder where I thought it would lead to, this trail of my pieces I leave scattered
In cluttered woods of stronger arms
In oceans of deep longing
In a moan that makes its way out into the impenetrable and inviting blackness and plants itself in the ground we've already pressed on,
The next point by which you'll try and follow me.
I would love to kiss you,
But I'm convinced you will sink,
And I'm either too weak to save you
Or too scared to try harder and
I'd hate to find out which.