Thinking Out Loud

I'm falling back into the undertow I don't know how it could be worse

The water churning in my driftwood stomach, the last meal will come back first

I'm losing color like an old man, It's the kind of white you can see through

I dream in tightrope walker foreign language I think I hear you, I could be wrong

I'm only thinking out loud

I could be wrong

I'm falling back into the undergrowth, sad vines in optimistic dirt

I think you're somebody unique and special, all tangled up, you've been hurt

The sun is moving like a pinball on the toaster that I bought with you