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Still
As a crust of bread
Is incomplete without the bread
I am incomplete without you
So far away you feel, you are
I lay awake as still as stone
As still as death, upon an icy riverbed
The breadcrust longs for more
More meat upon its bones
To tide him through the cold of the month
Time flies like a frisbee, like a squirrel
Swaying me to sleep, until you return
Swaying grows still, as still as the death within its basket
As still as our eyes move
As they wander for eachother, two thousand miles away
Oh, tireswing, hold me in your rubber arms
Tire swing in the tree, hold me through the rotten time
As it sways through my pain, as it sways through the days
