Listener- Wooden Heart

Well I’ve been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts,

It’s not only when these eyes are closed

These lies are ropes that I tied into my stomach,

But they hold this shop together tossed like leaves in this weather

My dreams are sails that I point towards my true north,

Stretched thin over my rib bones,

And pray that it gets better

But it won’t at least I don’t believe it will…

…This warship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors

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