Where the water hits the sand on a lethal piece of land, there are boys with angry fingers searching for gold in the laps of ladies; red with their fathers eyes. and so the rocks beg skyward, growing old
Now we're f**ing in the clay. break your wrists for me so you know that this is how we'll be: twisting under a god we've never seen
We'd carve our names into a tree but young love is not romantic; and when my hands are frantic and the flesh is beating i see the world around spewing chance into its branches
The land is breathing, there are diamonds in the mine, the trees are seeding, we are sublime
(nowhere) the land is breathing
(nowhere) there are diamonds in the
Mine
(nowhere) the trees are seeding
(nowhere) we are sublime