lined with a contagious itch for the big stuff
something that the church or state can't take away
the fall feels like a continuous drop to a grave
bottomless
get on top of this- feel my hip bones asking for your friction
kneeling beside me, peeling clothes, and sighing with lips pursed
i feel it now
and i wonder how
i feel anything at all when our clothes are on
this stretch is a far cry from a lovesick fever
i want to share the news
and debate the consciousness of man
then dive into a world of nature
sleep inside your thoughts
mix up our fears and dreams
bleed into your scars
and breathe in your happiness
i can't feel your life
i don't taste your mind and your soul is lost
covered, shadowed, blurred
somewhere between the heavens of your heart
and your deepest fear
of not being accepted
as anything at all.
where are you?
The Drums - Money from Tim Heinrich on Vimeo.
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