TillTheVulturesCome

Where the feelings stem, is far beyond dialect, it’s somewhat beautiful
Far too many thoughts clashing, till there is not one, every time I act
surprised
With my eyes is not the only way I’m seeing you, cut the mountain I would still
have you in my view
You are etched into my skull till the vultures come
And gather up my bones, and fly south for the winter
You are etched into my soul till the vultures come
And gather up my bones, and fly south for the winter