- Insight -

The scene's set in the change of the seasons
The storm blows up from the low tide
In that case, I'll be watching from the furthest row
Watching the insides spill out

Calling out from my space my hook my net
Calling out from the place I bruised my back
This can't wait till the light starts fading
When I wake my head won't clear but

Morning shines like two eyes from a still frame
Color comes streaming across this face
Pushing the weight from the cover we're under
Leaving with grace from the smallest place

Forecasting a time and a reason
Fall in rhythm with both sides
Here you'll stand with the final seconds ticking away
Fearing your conscience inside

Calling out from your space your hook your net
Calling out from the place you bruised your back



- Back -