Your Protector

Clearing my throat for eight days eight days with a bloody lip in my hand, overcast skies blinking blindingly into my eye. 

What a pathetic state you are in. Copyright geeks with the drunken sweater v

ests grind mainly their teeth on this white white day.

"I keep scraping my knee in the exact same place."

And my shoulders are way too heavy now. Way too heavy to breathe and smile. My broken cartilage, my aching eye socket. The audience makes a mess for only me to clean. "I'm tired of being shattered glass and swept under the carpet. I'm tired of burning my fingers."

Where this animal comes to die, I am the Other One. the other one.

It's like I've inhaled the constant luxury of burning rubber, crushed into corners breaking my fingers off into my eyes with a sword in debt.

(As you lay to die beside me baby on the morning that you came will you wait for me, the other one, will you wait for me)

(Your Protector - Fleet Foxes)