Honesty sold-out at face value, the price you pay for distance
The depth of your wounds can’t be measured by the doctors in the ambulance
Complicate my rising lungs and grip my falling chestnut hair
Sleep in, I won’t keep bleeding out dreams if I know you’re always right there
This battle is yours to expiate, with every star there is to count
As multitudinous as the silver glistening in your face, an ebony ink tantamount
You’re regressing back to the rejected days of golden senescence
I wouldn’t let go of the only part of my life that makes any semblance of a sense.