life slip slowly out of me to bathe in the crimson that forgives me for being me Father teach me to care, guide your hands over these pale stitches in
It turns my stomach every night like scattering bats in disrupted flight the idea of ideas and tired points to pierce the skin little children lining
Is it time that I said some things that I've been meaning to say? I gather up the words, and I can't seem to gather up a way it's just that I hoped there
m drowning in the memories that make my spirit sing so why are you out of reach? when your lips are just out of reach and your arms are just out of reach