The phone call I received was to liberate at best but now I find I'm still waiting on you.
There's a sense of competition with the ones who hurt the most, but this game is fixed and I'm not too keen on losing.
Every thought I commit to memory of this digs a hole to where you are.
I can see lightning from afar, and every bolt that intends to hit will scorch the earth until it splits,
but as long as I don't go outside I'm fine.
There's a river forming in a massive lake.
Its trappings kept it neatly in place.
While the sound of it breaking away
was glass bottles dying for an eternity that won't last as late.
Now they're littering the wayside with the binds that used to tie
them down in one direction. Of a life that wasn't mine.
Now the warmth is breaking through just as I knew it would do.
Just as I knew it would do.