Low

Don't pretend it's not that bad, we're both deserving

Upon your waking breath I'll lay until my landing

With shipwrecked eyes and tangled arms recklessly breaking

Across your dreadful pounding grace I'll be returning

A cool dark wind a tearful eye, must you keep bowing?

If not the ground that is your bed, who are you serving?

There's homes at stake and hearts to bare without surrender

Go take the time to make amends, for now we are nowhere

She wears my clothes, she drinks my rain

I fear I've lost the will to turn back again