Don't move, cause we're not done.
Don't move just yet, but you squirm on.
Commune without the need to shape you.
A devil close as blood covers us, and blood is all we have.
So, umm... thanks a lot for pulling at me screaming,
For comfort when I'm bleeding and pale,
Cause blood is all we have.
It's constant conflict:
What's my part?
When's my time to speak?
When is it time for wind to blow?
And the more life digs in, the more I let go.
Fingers wide--not it.