metal.

thin lipped & kicking at our regrets
we pick apart the dragons
like vultures in our sleep.
there are ashes on our foreheads
& the rider's fast approaching.
coming to take one of us
for all of the weaknesses we believed.
i'd wrap you up inside of me
but these arms are pinned to the wall.
these arms are never enough.
never something we could give up.

grit your teeth, baby,
it's gonna get cold.
we'll fall to a mighty ruin
beneath the things that we were told.
the things that we were told.