Throats Oaken-wait
walking between the sky and sky where plants and animals
retreat for the heat,
i'm still torn between the city lights and the countries silence,
all i want is to rot with you in my very own funeral home.
no matter where i go the trees around my head block out the sun.
sometimes i get the greatest feeling inside of me.
it's already begun inside these lungs,
this sort of thing is never fun alone.
the cramps feel like an incurable disease.
counting the pulse, at least now i'm trying.
losing touch, losing touch of it all.
i can feel it coming on, no you couldn't be more wrong.
the doctor said he could turn what's sad into numb,
it's too late, f..ck it, it's already begun.
i'm breaking into pieces picking through my thoughts.
it's no coincidence my judgement rots.
