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Off and on, in and out of trauma.
Prone or not.
By the time we reach you, you've no head so…
Like a dog in and out of traffic,
Losing limbs, laid out…
Don't get up.
Hung above the mantle of your father.
Your tongue has rotted out.
By the time we reach you, you've no head to speak of…
I believe we can get used to
Days where we lose the people we love.
Holding on to bodies that we borrowed,
You don't get to leave the lights on in a rental.
By the time we reach you, you've no head to speak of…
I believe we can get used to
Days where we lose
The people we love.
Don't get up.
By the time we reach you, you've no head to speak of…
I believe we can get used to
Headless friends
Who we wont speak of.