(choose:)

"To say that we still belong here is a sin," 

shouted from the crook of your arm,

the glance to the side,

behind stupid fucking addict eyes.

You just need time to digest

and I haven't been eating nearly enough.

Empty shelves, empty thoughts.

A recession of the heart and I'll rip at the factory doors with these crooked crowbar arms.

You just need time to digress

and I'm just wondering why you won't take off that watch,

wondering why it's called a watch

when there's nothing there to see?

A recession of the heart and you just need time to impress.

Behind my eyes and under my words.

Reverb, static and the creaking of often shut doors;

It's either this or the Flood.