No-life Crisis

bruises are artifacts
holding the ashes of instinct
slow down the world to make a point
forget how to act
how to breathe and just learn to blend
piecing together the bull in the heather
the stiff in the spineless
and everything under your tongue

racing to find you and losing our way back to
the end of you
racing to lose and finding our way back to
the thought of you

i'll always have everything
but waste it like days that just stand still
slow down the world to make a point
forget how to act
how to breathe and just learn to blend
piecing together the bull in the heather
the stiff in the spineless
and everything under your tongue

racing to find you and losing our way back to
the end of you
racing to lose you and finding our way back to
thoughts of you
until now, my eyes understood

you just said all you could say
said it you waited and forget

it's under your tongue