Skybox Morning After Cuts
I woke up in a cloud.
You showed me outer space,
We fixed our crooked lips.
We let our voices break.
We stepped out from our feet.
The earth grew all around.
We put our minds to sleep.
We filled our ears with sounds.
I love the noise.
I love the fair.
I love the smell that burns the air.
I love the empty drunken nights.
I love the guilt that gets us by.
I felt the empty space of a thick and silent sound,
Collapsing as we breath, the air in case we drowned.
The wind slipped through the door.
It brought us to our feet.
It took all of our want.
It left us what we need.
I love the noise.
I love the fair.
I love the smell that burns the air.
I love the empty drunken nights.
I love the guilt that gets us by.
I love the dark and falling down the stairs.
I love the fire that burns the air.
I love the morning after cuts.
I love the guilt that's killing us.
