All relaxed with nails bit to the quick while golden was the silence,
Like a foam filling the mouth of the exempt
The burdened saw the damage, absorbed with our legs lost to heated white lies
We remain to pull it's frame from the ashen wreck of anxiety,
Blown to conspicious borrowed attacks
We've got the nerve to live so low like this,
With nails bit to quick and teething blood so warm
The man who keeps sewing needles between his teeth prefabricates every spoken word,
With no weapons to lay in front of me
Robbed of my skills in social weaponry, robbed
Impending was the omen, no choice but to sever dead skin
You reap what you sow to degrees you'll never know