Sleep don't visit, so I choke on sun, and the days blur into one
And the backs of my eyes hum with things I've never done

Sheets are swaying from an old clothesline
Like a row of captured ghosts over old dead grass
Was never much, but we've made the most [bad word] home

Ships are launching from my chest
Some have names but most do not
If you find one, please let me know what piece I've lost

Peel the scars from off my back
I don't need them anymore
You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars [bad word] home

All my nightmares escape my head
Bar the door, please don't let them in
You were never supposed to leave
Now my head's splitting at the seams
And I don't know if I can

Here, beneath my lungs
I feel your thumbs
Press into my skin again