There is so little left from the warmth of the sun. . Toby existed. Where nothing starts. Been in where we almost missed. Staggered that it did not flood.
Will not come home. Tepid and cold. Crawling lessons to the fold. Trace it by line. Light in the ground. Beating your fists to the sound. . No one can look.
Someone here's a lie, somewhere underneath. Caught between the railing, mirroring the beat. I no longer feel and the years asleep. Show no sense of hope, staring honestly.
From the woods, from the woods. They are coming from the woods. Riding horses cloaked in gray. Make their way, to my door. Lay their boots upon my floor.
You can stop your crying, I'm never coming back. You can stop your crying, just walk down the tracks again. I just can't take the pressure, it's all too much for me.
Speak until the dust. Settles in the same specific place. Light refused to go. Drink it from a cast and iron plate. Instead of cold milk. Was offered unripe.
In the canyon I was started young. In the ocean, in the valley run. There was hope that time would disappear. in the smoke and when the valley clears.
And you feel it. You feel the pressure in your bones. It's resonating. Trying to conceal it. And you call me. You waited by the phone for hours. Thinking maybe do I manipulate you?.
Don't go out alone. I have seen some terrible things. There's a waterfall. Quiet place where trouble can spring. Everybody goes. Throws themselves from the top of the stream.