I’m pushing by a magnetic black tide
Seeping into soft crimes comprised from holding rhymes into
Breaking my ribs entombed held in tough skin
I am cursing my blood, I’m caught in constant sin
I was stumbling through rotting hollow oak trees
I was grasping their rough swollen bodies
Wait on me This weight on me
I’m dragging by a parasite in time
Caressing these white lies derived from holding rhymes into
Fine lines between our thumbs held in the wind
I am cursing your son, I am caught in his sin, and then
Sometimes I target the night and the day
To find melody haunting the reasons I stay
I am nothing without this, I’m blank pages thin
Between fine lines you draw, and the lines in between
In between
I was stumbling through rotting hollow oak trees
I was grasping their rough swollen bodies
I was calloused finding things unholy
I was herding dead fawn through open greens
Wait