No more second guess, no tied up to the pole, hovering
The ladder sits in waiting, no more shall I climb
Leave me down here
Forked-tongue acrobatics, spewing from the tubes
No, no, only silence
The birthright paints a landscape
Remains stacked to the sky
Never will I wonder when the waters will run dry
Bled dry
Don’t fight
No wisdom for the leeches or bargain afternoons
No, no, this is solace
None fittest for the bloodline or point to classify
Leave me down here for the hours to decide