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Buttons
In my mind, not enough birds have died
in the shadow of this once cast stone.
And I'm not unwell, but i am ill at ease
with all the buttons still left to sew
through needles eyes, see me sharper than i see myself.
So you should stitch me in to stop me from bleeding.
And education can be fickle i think, sometimes the more you learn
the more you lose a sense of what you think you know,
about all the buttons still left to sew
and I'm outside myself more and more these days.
So you should stitch my skin skin to stop me from bleeding
all over this fresh song and I,
acknowledge all the corners, and all the freshly painted walls,
that bear no former scars since they're patched up and over now.
But i was born of miners and I'm designed to chip away, tunnel in the dark.
But why must it always come down to some unseen contender?
I don't know.
When hatchlings all we are, just battling the whitewash
birds above, sharks below.
Though i feel empathy towards the ones who threaten me
I'd still leave them soft-shelled to the beaks of crows.
But every now and then a tempest blows,
and the veneer I keep comes unsewn, but will you ever read me well?
I can only assume so.
And I'm buoyant like a flotsam man, now relegated by the waves to land.
They dry me like a brittle bone, paraded like a polished stone.
Why must it always come down to some unseen contender?
I don't know.
When hatchlings all we are, just battling the whitewash
birds above, sharks below.
Though i feel empathy towards the ones who threaten me,
I'd still leave them soft-shelled to the beaks of crows.
So why must it always come down to some unseen contender?
I don't know.
When hatchlings all we are, just battling the whitewash
birds above, sharks below.
Though i feel empathy towards the ones who threaten me,
I'd still leave them soft-shelled to the beaks of crows.
And that's what you ought to know.
I'd see them smashed on the reefs below.
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I'd see them smashed on the reefs below.
And that's what you ought to know.
I'd still leave them soft-shelled to the beaks of crows.
Though i feel empathy towards the ones who threaten me,
birds above, sharks below.
When hatchlings all we are, just battling the whitewash
I don't know.
So why must it always come down to some unseen contender?
I'd still leave them soft-shelled to the beaks of crows.
Though i feel empathy towards the ones who threaten me,
birds above, sharks below.
When hatchlings all we are, just battling the whitewash
I don't know.
Why must it always come down to some unseen contender?
They dry me like a brittle bone, paraded like a polished stone.
And I'm buoyant like a flotsam man, now relegated by the waves to land.
I can only assume so.
and the veneer I keep comes unsewn, but will you ever read me well?
But every now and then a tempest blows,
I'd still leave them soft-shelled to the beaks of crows.
Though i feel empathy towards the ones who threaten me
birds above, sharks below.
When hatchlings all we are, just battling the whitewash
I don't know.
But why must it always come down to some unseen contender?
But i was born of miners and I'm designed to chip away, tunnel in the dark.
that bear no former scars since they're patched up and over now.
acknowledge all the corners, and all the freshly painted walls,
all over this fresh song and I,
So you should stitch my skin skin to stop me from bleeding
and I'm outside myself more and more these days.
about all the buttons still left to sew
the more you lose a sense of what you think you know,
And education can be fickle i think, sometimes the more you learn
So you should stitch me in to stop me from bleeding.
through needles eyes, see me sharper than i see myself.
with all the buttons still left to sew
And I'm not unwell, but i am ill at ease
in the shadow of this once cast stone.
In my mind, not enough birds have died
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