A rising tide spent drowning in days lost to one heart's final lament
Thrown off like grins known only to the dead
Plastered behind scarlet eyes
Stinking of tomorrow
I say that once a letter is written-
It's not so easily sent
Like trying to find 2 of 3
But settling for one of me instead
It's a hard faith to follow:
The constant give without the take;
After the scraping through it's one less heart to break
A head above water for the eyes held under
A lasting plea for the lost mind torn asunder
Nothing but fair trades and farewells
When the present tense reveals a sixth sense
When you'd die for a word or one less empty shell