Wingbone
Tim Rutili
fill my belly with your whisepering some barely on the thread
orange sound water sworn and cotton fire cold light swallowing
your song
pasture moonlight newborn legs let the constellations drop crack
your scorn water your grave only when you're half erased forget
your lines bed of nails sharpening the edges of your grace
cold light sifting through lift the shade and let the night in
carry your bed on wingbone legs let the constellations drop water
your scorn and crack your grave sharpening the edges of your
face lost a day a bed of nails lost your lines only when you're
wrecked only when you're half erased the loneliness aside it's alright