Dig your nails into my skin and pull apart my flesh
Pick me into pieces and shred my every breath
Beat my blood like morning eggs and take your rightful pound
Spin my head and shake my legs but I won't make a sound

Blonde hair, shoulder length
A morning in June, one of thirty
I run my fingers through the tall grass
Picking memories like strawberries

Coffee flavoured kisses in the morning
Watched the river swallow up the sun
You took over my body without warning
Now each and every cell has come undone

The sea is made of milk and made of honey
I float under the surface without sound
My skin is made of clay and paper money
The seabed has a mattress soft as cloud