All bites and scratches, battened hatches.
Down and out and down the spout
in a spiderland
I met a girl, to my surprise,
said I'm damaged goods, she said 'so am I'
so I held her hand.
I'm not sure where
she found strength to care;
the things that would bleed us dry
seemed to multiply.
All bites and stings on phantom limbs
we used to hold what we used to hold,
hope we're smarter now.
The past, you can trust, will f** you up.
But hang onto love, it'll be enough
to save you somehow.
If drowned, i'll be renewed, sweet thing—
I'll return to you again each spring.
'cause d**h is only a fact
and that don't mean anything.
Bored with moralizing stories,
ignoring blurred lines that form in
our future (doesn't exist yet,
a gift for just past the present)