Inky black does fill the veins of giving thanks and please
Tried to lie but lied at trying
Tried to be the breeze
I can’t even hear your face
The noise floor rise to fill the space
and not one worth a drink to
in the trees
Bolt hard
Bolt into the sound
Swear6 hard
And ride them underground
Canonize the ink that pours
Celebrate the seed
Cautious not to understand
Promised to the dream
Foreign feelings win the scraps
Left to fester cursed to lapse
A willingness to fray
Is all you’ll ever need
Bolt hard
Bolt into the sound
Swear hard
And ride them underground
Maxed out version of the taste
Separate the runner from the race