I reckon your indecision, Fata Morgana no more Though I bear the mark of the incision, My blue tears remain inshore Thoughts are grains of sand on a beach Emotions lay cold across the floor Hearts pound and blood is lost in each quicksand consumes the tenderness that was before Subtly, we drown deep in these courts Mind your tongue, because words are corps. Suddenly your against the wall Yet I hear no answer nor call