Songs I Write | VIII

Sand

I always knew
That I had an issue
That I couldn't prove
Till I met you
Something inside me spins
Like a kid in a dress and
Something spiralling
Like a mother with much to drink

Mutilated remains of the soul I had
Held in my hand
Running through my fingers, between the cracks
Like sand
Like sand

And I kind of feel
What I know is not real
I appease, not appeal
And so she'll
Be the one to fill you
To want to not kill you
To want you and heal you
Like I so wanted to

Mutilated remains of the soul I had
Held in my hand
Running through my fingers, between the cracks
Like sand
Like sand

And you never could understand
And you never did understand
And I'd planned for you to understand
And defeated, I understand you're a man
You'll always have the upper hand
You'll always have the upper hand
You'll always have the upper hand
You always have, you always have

Mutilated remains of the soul I had
Held in my hand
Running through my fingers, between the cracks
Like sand
Like sand

Like sand
Like sand