Skin like ashes
Words like snow
To stay means trouble
But who of us wants to go?
Lines on the ceiling
Count them one more time
Hunting for feeling
But what I find is not mine
Sit at your outpost
Friends filter through
Recalling times of plenty
When darlings sang for you
Lines on the highway
Follow them away from here
I take what you say
And nourish what’s sincere
Go back to the islands
Take time to clear your head
I’ll stay with the sirens
Until the city’s fed