| Get a little closer, let fold
|
| Cut open my sternum, and pull
|
| My little ribs around you
|
| The rungs of me be under, under you
|
| I’ll cut the soft pockets, let bleed
|
| Over the rocky cliffs that you leave
|
| To peer over and not forget what feet are
|
| Splitting threads of thunder over me
|
| That I might see with my chest and sink
|
| Into the edges round you
|
| Into the lakes of quarry’s that brink
|
| On all the edges round you
|
| Get a little closer, let fold
|
| Cut open my sternum, and pull
|
| My little ribs around you
|
| The lungs of me be crowns over you
|
| Get a little closer, let fold
|
| Cut open my sternum, and pull
|
| My little ribs around you
|
| The rungs of me be under, under you
|
| I’ll cut the soft pockets, let bleed
|
| Over the rocky cliffs that you leave
|
| To peer over and not forget what feet are
|
| Splitting threads of thunder over me
|
| Listen closely, closely to the floor
|
| Emitting all its graces through the pores
|
| You make a fine shrine in me
|
| You build a fine shrine in me
|
| That I might see with my chest and sink
|
| Into the edges round you
|
| Into the lakes of quarry’s that brink
|
| On all the edges round you
|
| Get a little closer, let fold
|
| Cut open my sternum, and pull
|
| My little ribs around you
|
| The lungs of me be crowns over you
|
| Get a little closer, let fold
|
| Cut open my sternum, and pull
|
| My little ribs around you
|
| The rungs of me be under, under you |