|
| ||||||
| Sinking Ships |
|
We ride through the north woods on a wave of CV chatter Parading a false flag, eyes directed to the platter Caught like bread crumbs at the bottom of an oven Baptismal reruns dancing like sugar plumbs Sewn lips save sinking ships And deaf bliss ripens foreign tides But when the poles shift, and the waters lift We'll watch the rift grow and grow |
| Back |