Yours is a blind love.
Well I, too, have fought my eyes.
I run into tables, staring at the floor until I can't stand anymore. But you're not a ghost with holes.
And I'm not the type to pretend he knows what no one knows.
Oh, I may never know.
Yours is a broke love.
Well, I too have fought my legs.
But I learned to let go. Follow the blood flow until I can't stand anymore.
See me welling in your eyes, a field of fireflies.
Take me somewhere we are close by.
See me hobble through your hallway.
Squint to see me lead you somewhere we are us. Where alarm clocks chirp out dust, non-beliefs are hushed - and then there's us. There's just us.