Text:
A Cadence Of Sorts

ready for this. Another night well spent on a hit or miss. My calloused sides are turning blue. Hold close to me as I lean to you. A subtle wink and a

. This is how we work our knuckles to the bone. Rest your head tonight. Sleep tonight. This is how we work our knuckles to the bone. So take a skeptic

said to me, if not for closure's sake. So silence quenched in black and white is all that's left to trace. The dim lit light is a quiet drive, attached

In this culture I am just the meat for vultures to pick Until my beauty shows for your glossy covers And in classy circles smother Have I nothing more