Spitshine Sonata


I lost my voice in the fire
I burned my eyes staring at your eclipse
I was just a child
My father's favorite
Such delicate arms keep reaching toward the horizon
As we keep starving for this beauty we are sick with distance
Starving for this beauty
We are sick with distance
Grieving for his failure
You keep me on my knees mummified in your arms
This is the last chance that you will get to breathe my name into his chest
Only the deaf find peace
Only the blind won't reach







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