black dots and sewing needles measure years like dead liver cells
as the crescent moons of my hands crack away more honest than faces
all those things that we did, words that were spent—where are they now?
looking for ourselves in places and found there was nothing to be found
I don’t want to look back
if I did it’d still all be there
- - -
This song is about loss.
released November 11, 2015
all rights reserved