Oaken - Wait - Throats

Walking between the sky and sky where plants and animals

Retreat for the heat

I’m still torn between the city lights and the countries silence

All I want is to rot with you in my very own funeral home

No matter where I go the trees around my head block out the sun

Sometimes I get the greatest feeling inside of me

It’s already begun inside these lungs

This sort of thing is never fun alone

The cramps feel like an incurable disease

Counting the pulse, at least now I’m trying

Losing touch, losing touch of it all

I can feel it coming on, no you couldn’t be more wrong

The doctor said he could turn what’s sad into numb

It’s too late, fuck it, it’s already begun

I’m breaking into pieces picking through my thoughts

It’s no coincidence my judgment rots