No matter what you say, it's just a means to the end as we float away, pushing against each other. And this ink will stain under my skin. The regrets will stain under my skin.
And you give and you give and you get a head full of false self regrets.The Push, the pull, the perfectly placed accent on the side of the skull. The sound of detonation. Promise me this, that you will save you self.
Wake up inside, haunt the place you wish to hide. Tuck the children in. The ring on top/inside. Wrap your arms around them tight. Children kneel to pray. Children become prey.
Simplistic twist and the twirl. The ghost of just some other girl. When we look back 10 years at all the beds we've made, battles fade away to all the lies we sang. Can we look back and laugh at the moment of collapse and toe the lines of time?