To The Lighthouse - Memoryhouse

It silently seeming

These eggshell ribs

Weaving into your hands

Can't sustain this breathing

It weighs on my chest

His lungs are filled with water from the tide

From the tide

And I watch them go by

Can't define a purpose

Our hands set adrift

Islands cobwebs forming

Coalesce through the vapor

Some strange trembling gas

In sleep I dream of houses in the sky

In the sky

And I watch them go by

Sometimes I'm pulled away

From my own misery

Your hands cover me

Eyes drift slowly

Sleep the summer chill

And sheets of linen

Hush the scattered sound

Of time dispersing

Sometimes I'm pulled away

From my own misery

Your hands cover me

Eyes drift slowly

Sleep the summer chill

And sheets of linen

Hush the scattered sound

Of time dispersing