Dissection of bibles
Cross-culture revival
Spit venom through chest plates
No hope to reconcile
Shift weight for wounded rivals
We wear our half-torn smiles

I have rearranged my heart
To better fit me lonely

I'm glaring down windows
Set back from awkward silence
Heard below
They're crying on limp shoulders
Propped up by dreams of widows
Temper soothed

I have rearranged my heart
To better fit me lonely

We're not writing you off
We're not writing you off
Disaster has never been closer than now

We're not writing you off
We're not writing you off
Limp wrist will you count it off for me?
Limp wrist will you count it off for me?